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THE    PETRIE    ESTATE 


BY 


HELEN    DAWES   BROWN 


AUTHOR   OF    "TWO   COLLEGE    GIRLS " 


BOSTON    AND    NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND   COMPANY 


1893 


Copyright,  1893, 
BY  HELEN  DAWES  BROWN. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Rlrmridf  Prf.tt,  Cnmftrirlrjf,  Mas*.,  T?.  ft.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Company. 


.STACK  ANHEX 

P6 
1139 


CONTENTS. 


I.   CHARLOTTE 1 

II.   THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  JAMES  PETKIE     .        .        13 

III.  THE  HATHAWAYS 24 

IV.  CHARLOTTE  IN  NE\V  YORK  ....        38 
V.   25  VAN  HATTEN  PARK 53 

VI.   "WHAT  TO  Do  ?  " 67 

VII.   A  RAINY  AFTERNOON 80 

VIII.   AT  MRS.  APPLEBY'S 92 

IX.   ONE  OF  CHARLOTTE'S  INTERRUPTIONS     .         .  109 

X.   KEYSER  STREET 119 

XI.   WHIST 131 

XII.   IN  WHICH  NOTHING  HAPPENS     .        .        .       146 

XIII.  AN  INTERVIEW 162 

XIV.  REVERIE 179 

XV.  ON  FURTHER  ACQUAINTANCE  ....  191 

XVI.   ANOTHER  DISCOVERY 205 

XVII.    "HE  LOVES  ME.     HE  LOVES  ME  NOT  "        .216 
XVIIL   THE  KALEIDOSCOPE  TURNS  ....      228 

XIX.   A  SHOPPING  EXPEDITION 233 

XX.   NEXT  MORNING 246 

XXI.   AT  WARING'S  DESK 255 

XXII.   FROM  MRS.  BISBEE  TO  AUNT  CORNELIA    .      263 
XXIII.   THROUGH  ANOTHER  DAY  .  271 


IV  CONTENTS. 

XXIV.   THE  WILL  is  FORGOTTEN     ....  28-1 

XXV.   "!N  THE  MIDST  OF  LIFE"      .        .        .  .294 

XXVI.   IN  NEW  YOKK  AGAIN 301 

XXVII.  THE  WINGED  VICTORY  OF  SAMOTHRACE  .  313 


THE   PETRIE    ESTATE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CHARLOTTE. 

LIGHTS  had  been  out  for  an  hour  in  High  Hill 
Seminary.  The  principal  had  long  since  retired 
from  the  duties  of  the  day.  That  excellent  lady 
had,  indeed,  relinquished  one  care  after  another 
to  her  able  assistant,  until  she  herself  did  scarcely 
more  than  ask  a  blessing  at  meals,  and  conduct 
prayers.  The  annual  circular,  it  is  true,  was 
composed  by  the  pen  of  the  principal.  This 
document  was  a  mingling  of  scenery,  piety,  cost 
and  dimensions  of  buildings,  ideals  of  woman 
hood,  and  delicately  hinted  social  advantages, 
all  set  forth  in  flowery  English  of  the  old  school. 
Among  Miss  Trowbridge's  toppling  sentences, 
with  their  pretty  adjectives  and  pronouns  of 
doubtful  antecedents,  one,  after  all,  made  out  a 
very  comfortable  and  creditable  education  for  a 
young  girl  up  to  the  age  of  eighteen.  Miss  Trow- 
bridge  reserved  for  herself  one  more  function. 


2  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

Her  assistant,  Charlotte  Coverdale,  was  wont  to 
sit  with  outward  composure  and  inward  restive- 
ness  under  the  principal's  little  addresses  which 
often  followed  evening  prayers.  These  were 
of  the  literary  quality  of  the  circular,  and  were 
an  expansion  of  the  same  topics.  Miss  Trow 
bridge  was  an  artless  egotist,  who  based  her  ex 
hortations  upon  her  own  example.  This  was  not, 
however,  especially  to  the  disadvantage  of  the 
girls  who  looked  up  into  her  face.  Few  of  them 
had  yet  the  experience  or  the  humor  to  judge 
character.  So  Charlotte  Coverdale  reminded 
herself  as  she  sat  and  watched  the  sweet,  serious 
faces  while  Miss  Trowbridge  related  anecdotes 
of  her  own  instructive  youth.  The  wit  of  the 
Literature  Class  did  indeed  whisper  to  her  neigh 
bor,  "  '  Intimations  of  Immortality  from  Recol 
lections  of  Early  Childhood  ' !  " 

The  old  lady  read  and  dozed  her  time  away 
in  the  intervals  of  these  labors,  while  Charlotte 
Coverdale  gently  usurped  her  duties,  and  gave 
the  old  school  new  efficiency  and  self-respect. 
Miss  Coverdale  and  the  principal  differed  at 
many  points ;  as,  for  example,  in  the  matter  of 
the  teacher's  life.  Miss  Trowbridge  held  the  as 
cetic,  conventual  ideal.  "  A  devoted  teacher  "  she 
had  been  this  very  evening  describing  to  Char 
lotte.  "  She  has  been  with  us  over  twenty  years. 
She  has  no  thought  but  of  the  Seminary  ;  her 


CHARLOTTE.  3 

heart  is  wholly  in  her  work.  She  is  never  so 
happy  as  when  she  is  at  her  post.  And  I  know 
of  no  one  more  faithful  to  the  ideals  of  the  Sem 
inary,"  continued  Miss  Trowbridge,  in  the  sweet, 
rotund  voice  in  which  she  addressed  her  pupils. 
The  word  "  ideals  "  so  pronounced  had  often  had 
its  good  effect  upon  a  trustful  girl  of  sixteen. 
It  had  a  very  bad  effect  upon  Charlotte,  who 
listened  now. 

"  More  faithful,  Miss  Coverdale,  to  the  ideals 
of  the  Seminary,"  with  the  musical  swell  re 
peated.  "  In  the  simplicity  of  her  attire,  in  the 
plainness  of  her  surroundings,  in  the  utter  ab 
sence  of  self-seeking,  Miss  Bowdoin  sets  before 
our  young  gyurls  the  loftiest  standard  of  plain 
living  and  high  thinking,  as  Emerson  has  said," 
added  Miss  Trowbridge,  with  complacent  confi 
dence  in  her  misquotation  as,  often,  in  her  serene 
mispronunciations. 

Charlotte  sat  miserable  under  this  perversion 
of  the  truth,  in  which  she  saw  her  own  best  be 
liefs  grotesque  and  distorted. 

"  Which  brings  me  to  speak  of  a  matter  that 
you  can  help  me  to  set  right,  I  am  sure,"  Miss 
Trowbridge  continued,  in  her  soft  official  voice. 
"  Miss  Bowdoin  herself  has  called  my  attention 
to  it.  It  is  the  matter  of  after-dinner  coffee, 
Miss  Coverdale,  —  after-dinner  coffee  for  the 
teachers  on  the  Sabbath.  It  has  been  an  iiino- 


4  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

ration,  as  you  are  aware,  and  an  innovation,  I 
fear,  not  with  the  Lest  results." 

Charlotte  looked  a  little  startled. 

"  In  the  first  place,  you  know  that  it  is  a 
matter  of  principle  with  me  that  the  teachers 
should  share  in  all  respects  the  life  of  the  pu 
pils." 

Charlotte  said  gently,  "  That,  Miss  Trow- 
bridge,  is  a  point  on  which  I  cannot  agree  with 
you.  For  the  pupil's  own  sake  I  think  the  teach 
er's  life  should  be  different  at  many  points." 

"  I  know  your  views,"  said  Miss  TrowLridge, 
with  perfect  courtesy  and  toleration.  "  But 
High  Hill  Seminary  has  established  a  principle 
which  cannot  well  be  set  aside.  We  have  had 
many  innovations  since  you  came  among  us, 
Miss  Coverdale ;  of  that  you  are  aware,  no 
doubt." 

Charlotte  Coverdale  replied  with  the  very 
smile  by  which  she  had  carried  through  many  of 
the  innovations. 

"  And  I  feel  that  we  have  another  to  deal  with 
in  this  matter  that  has  recently  come  up,  —  this 
affair  of  the  coffee.  Now  after-dinner  coffee  is 
not  a  thing  that  we  allow  our  gyurls  to  have ; 
only  coffee  at  breakfast,  and  not  too  strong, 
Miss  Coverdale." 

Miss  Trowbridgc  looked  impressively  at  Char 
lotte  for  her  assent. 


CHARLOTTE.  5 

"  And  why  the  teachers  should  desire  it  at 
dinner,  and  why  coffee  should  be  chosen  to  mark 
the  Sabbath,  I  confess  I  fail  to  see.  Can  you 
enlighten  me,  Miss  Coverdale  ?  " 

Frivolous  seriousness  about  trifles  angered 
Charlotte.  She  answered  lightly,  but,  it  seems, 
to  Miss  Trowbridge's  satisfaction. 

"  I  thought  you  would  agree  with  me.  More 
over,  I  have  observed  that  coffee  has  —  appears 
to  have  an  effect.  It  appears  to  conduce  to 
what  I  may  call  —  hilarity.  I  heard  laughter 
from  the  teachers'  room  last  Sunday.  Miss 
Bowdoin  and  I  observed  that  the  teachers  lin 
gered  for  some  time  after  the  pupils  left  the 
dining-room."  Miss  Trowbridge  paused. 

"  There  was  some  very  good  talk  at  our  table, 
Miss  Trowbridge." 

"  No  doubt,  and  yet  you  must  agree  with  me 
that  from  every  point  of  view  this  is  not  in  the 
spirit  of  the  Seminary,  not  in  the  spirit  in  which 
it  was  founded.  Now  if  it  were  tea,  it  might  be 
somewhat  different." 

"  Tea  is  quite  as  exhilarating,  do  you  not  think 
so,  Miss  Trowbridge  ?  " 

"But  then,  you  know,  Miss  Coverdale,  tea 
does  not  smell  so  far  !  " 

Miss  Trowbridge  dropped  her  voice  secretively, 
and  Charlotte  marveled  at  her  morality. 

"  Therefore,  in  future,  shall  we  not  agree  to 


6  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

substitute  tea,  — '  the  cup  that  cheers  but  not 
inebriates,'  Miss  Coverdale?"  Miss  T  row- 
bridge  paused  as  usual,  for  her  quotation  to  take 
effect. 

Charlotte  made  her  escape  politely,  and  retired 
to  her  room  in  wrath.  Even  then  she  was  half 
aware  that  her  anger  was  out  of  proportion,  and 
that  she,  too,  was  frivolous,  in  taking  Miss  Trow- 
bridge  so  seriously.  Once  outside  of  High  Hill 
Seminary,  Charlotte  would  have  found  her  a  di 
verting  character,  whose  existence  could  be  read 
ily  pardoned  in  consideration  of  the  entertain 
ment  she  afforded.  It  was  in  fact  a  bad  state 
of  nerves,  the  fatigue  of  ten  years'  teaching,  that 
caused  Charlotte  to  view  Miss  Trowbridge's  in 
fluence  upon  the  Seminary  as  so  disastrous. 
The  truth  was,  that  the  principal  of  High  Hill 
Seminary  did  no  great  harm ;  while  Charlotte's 
own  influence,  always  underrated  by  herself,  was 
the  positive  working  force  of  the  institution. 
Nor  was  Miss  Trowbridge's  repression  of  the 
teachers  so  unfortunate  as  might  be  supposed. 
Two  or  three  of  Miss  Bowdoin's  type  survived 
Charlotte  Coverdale's  reforms,  but  the  nineteenth 
century  was  now  far  advanced,  and  the  ascetic 
ideal  was  fading  out.  Charlotte  had  assembled 
a  number  of  healthy,  enthusiastic  young  women, 
of  sound  education,  and  she  had  made  it  her 
highest  effort  to  secure  to  them  a  well-rounded 


CHARLOTTE.  7 

personal  life,  as  the  basis  of  their  professional 
career.  This  had  been  her  "  original  work  "  as 
a  teacher.  She  had  not  distinguished  herself 
in  the  field  of  scholarship ;  her  thought  and  re 
search  had  gone  to  the  study  of  the  teacher's 
life.  Charlotte  knew  as  yet  nothing  of  a  move 
ment  on  foot  among  the  trustees  of  the  Seminary, 
who  proposed  to  bestow  a  graceful  pension  upon 
Miss  Trowbridge  and  to  vest  the  power  of  prin 
cipal  in  Miss  Coverdale.  Kind  words  were 
spoken  of  her  by  these  excellent  gentlemen  ;  all 
about  her  was  love  and  appreciation,  but  so  late 
and  so  weary  was  this  night  that  her  faith  in 
herself  was  gone.  Her  conversation  with  Miss 
Trowbridge  was  all  that  remained  of  the  day. 
She  could  extract  no  amusement  from  it.  She 
felt  cramped,  thwarted,  and  heart-sick.  Her 
ambition  for  the  teacher's  life  seemed  to  have 
no  fulfillment  in  her  own.  She  clearly  did  not 
practice  what  she  preached.  How  watchfully 
she  guarded  a  newly  arrived  young  teacher,  lest 
the  Seminary  walls  should  close  about  her, — 
and  here  she  sat  herself,  immured.  She  could 
guard  other  teachers  from  Miss  Trowbridge's 
petty  tyranny,  but  she  could  not  protect  herself. 
Charlotte  felt  every  relation  of  her  life  imper 
fect  and  unnatural.  Her  parents  had  died  in 
her  childhood ;  she  had  no  brothers  and  sisters. 
As  for  her  teacher's  life,  she  thought  of  a  viva- 


8  THE  PETE  IE  ESTATE. 

cious  friend  of  hers.  Rebecca  had  said,  "I 
should  like  to  see  you  in  the  real  world,  out  of 
this  artificial  life,  for  good  and  all !  Of  all  hypo 
crites  teachers  are  the  worst.  How  I  used  to  hate 
that  amiability  and  enthusiasm  that  I  had  to  put 
on  and  take  off  every  day.  You  shake  your 
head.  That  shows  how  far  gone  in  hypocrisy 
you  are,  if  you  can  even  keep  it  up  with  me. 
But  you  are  romantic  about  teaching.  Oh,  yes, 
you  are  as  romantic  as  ever.  How  you  have  kept 
your  complexion  and  your  imagination  is  more 
than  I  can  understand.  Think,  it 's  ten  years 
since  we  were  in  college  together.  You  have  even 
been  romantic  about  your  education.  I  am  not. 
I  owe  my  education  a  grudge.  If  it  were  not 
for  that,  I  might  have  been  a  comfortable  wo 
man,  without  the  torment  of  all  these  problems. 
I  'm  a  child  o'  the  time  —  a  mistake  o'  the  time, 
I  often  think ;  there  are  so  many  women  of 
that  sort  now ;  mistakes  that  have  to  be  made, 
I  suppose,  before  we  get  to  the  right  thing." 

Charlotte  took  up  a  letter  from  Rebecca, 
which  the  evening  mail  had  brought.  Her 
friend  was  in  San  Francisco,  and,  as  the  letter 
revealed,  in  San  Francisco  she  was  to  spend 
her  life.  She  had  abandoned  teaching  for  jour 
nalism,  and  had  now  abandoned  journalism  for 
marriage.  Charlotte  sat  brooding  over  the  let 
ter.  Unselfish  woman  though  she  was,  it  was 


CHARLOTTE.  9 

her  own  life  that  came  uppermost  as  she  read 
her  friend's  confidences.  She  took  from  her 
desk  a  faded  daguerreotype  case,  bearing  the 
date  of  her  mother's  marriage.  It  contained 
two  pictures.  Charlotte  studied  her  young  mo 
ther's  face,  the  full,  sensitive  lips,  the  tender, 
expectant  eyes.  A  speaking  likeness,  they  had 
called  it ;  and  many  a  time  had  Charlotte,  when 
the  living  had  failed  her,  found  response  in  the 
face  of  her  mother.  The  daughter  was  an  older 
woman  now  than  the  young  Mary  Coverdale, 
and  she  gazed  at  the  picture  with  a  comprehend 
ing,  almost  maternal  tenderness.  An  old  grief 
uttered  its  moan  again.  Charlotte  could  remem 
ber  of  her  mother  only  a  bending  face  with  love 
in  it,  —  not  a  feature,  not  a  word  remained  to 
her.  Perversely  enough,  she  had  a  distinct  rec 
ollection  of  the  little  gold  pin  at  her  mother's 
throat.  It  was  touched  with  gilt  in  the  daguer 
reotype,  and  was  the  freshest  part  of  the  pic 
ture  also.  It  was  this  little  twist  of  gold  that, 
by  some  freak  of  the  heart,  brought  the  tears  to 
her  eyes  now. 

Opposite  was  the  face  of  Charlotte's  father, 
a  face  that  added  years  would  have  made  dis 
tinguished  and  commanding.  The  loss  to  the 
world,  and  the  loss  to  her !  she  reflected.  It 
could  only  be  put  away  among  the  mysteries  of 
fate.  When  an  excellent  old  woman  had  one 


10  THE  PETE  IE  ESTATE. 

time  tried  to  explain,  on  behalf  of  Providence, 
the  death  of  Charlotte's  parents,  the  girl  had 
turned  upon  her  solemnly  and  sharply.  As  she 
grew  to  mature  thought,  her  utmost  exercise  of 
faith  was  the  patience  to  wait  for  knowledge. 
She  was  on  the  whole  a  happy  woman,  yet  there 
were  times  when  she  went  into  retreat  with  her 
old  sorrows.  She  did  not  avoid  or  regret  these 
seasons  of  bereavement.  They  kept  her  related 
to  her  father  and  mother,  she  said,  when  Re 
becca  remonstrated. 

As  Charlotte  held  in  her  hand  the  double 
daguerreotype,  she  looked  at  her  mirror.  She 
gazed  searchingly  into  her  own  eyes,  and  found 
there  the  light  of  her  mother's.  She  glanced  at 
her  father's  face,  and  then  looked  again  into 
her  own.  Her  dark  hair  rolled  back  from  a 
brow  of  singular  power  and  beauty.  The  soft 
eyes  of  Mary  Coverdale  had  a  moment  ago 
looked  from  her  daughter's ;  now  Charlotte  met 
in  her  own  face  the  look  of  her  dead  father. 
A  little  above  the  common  height  she  stood, 
the  lines  of  her  figure  gracious  and  noble.  Yet, 
if  she  looked  fascinated  into  her  mirror,  it  was 
not  her  beauty  that  held  her.  The  mystery  of 
earthly  immortality  laid  its  spell  upon  her. 
"  They  are  not  dead  ;  they  live  in  me  ;  I  will 
live  out  their  life  for  them."  So  her  thoughts 
ran,  till  they  brought  her  back  to  the  very  point 


CHARLOTTE.  11 

from  which  she  had  set  out :  the  yearning  for  a 
wider  life.  She  often  questioned  her  own  lot 
anxiously.  She  was  good  and  she  was  happy  in 
the  eyes  of  every  one  ;  but  there  was  an  arti 
ficial  serenity  about  her  very  goodness  and  hap 
piness.  She  doubted  their  quality ;  she  won 
dered  if  she  had  met  the  natural  trials  and 
temptations.  She  breathed  the  adulation  of 
two  hundred  schoolgirls,  sweet  and  stifling  in 
cense.  She  dreaded  its  effect  upon  her  charac 
ter. 

"  I  need  a  complete  change  of  relations.  I 
need  to  look  up  and  not  down."  So  she  had 
said  to  Rebecca,  and  Rebecca  had  agreed,  with 
enthusiasm. 

"  How  often  we  have  been  over  it  all  ! " 
Charlotte  had  sighed  in  conclusion.  "  I  love 
my  girls,  and  I  love  my  work,  and  by  it  I  must 
live.  It  is  as  well  that  necessity  settles  it  for 
me." 

Charlotte  Coverdale  laid  down  the  portraits 
of  her  father  and  mother,  and  took  up  a  news 
paper.  It  was  in  the  direct  line  of  her  thought 
that  she  turned  to  the  editorial  pages  of  the 
u  Citizen,"  which  took  her  into  the  mid-stream 
of  American  life.  She  had  established  an  inti 
macy  with  these  columns,  and  was  usually  in 
cordial  sympathy  with  them.  One  vigorous  pen 
she  learned  to  recognize  in  criticisms  from  time 


12  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

to  time  of  the  progress  of  American  civiliza 
tion.  With  all  its  radicalism,  she  knew  no 
other  paper  so  jealously  conservative  of  the 
world's  experience.  This  liberal  conservatism 
answered  to  her  own  character,  and  the  fresh 
New  York  paper,  traveling  its  two  hundred 
miles  daily  to  reach  her,  supplied  to  her  clois 
tered  life  contact  with  the  world  and  the  stimu 
lus  of  men's  minds. 

To-night  Charlotte  had  not  read  far  when,  in 
another  corner  of  the  paper,  she  caught  sight 
of  her  mother's  family  name,  —  an  uncommon 
name,  —  standing  out  in  firm,  black  type  among 
the  death  notices.  She  read,  "  Petrie.  Died  in 
New  York,  May  17,  James  Petrie,  for  forty 
years  a  resident  of  London." 

James  Petrie  was  her  mother's  cousin,  whom 
she  herself  had  never  known  or  even  seen.  She 
thought  a  moment  of  the  lonely  end  of  the  old 
man,  then  continued  her  reading. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE   LAST    DAYS    OF   JAMES   PETKIE. 

IT  was  the  lovely  afternoon  of  the  seven 
teenth  of  May.  In  the  yard  of  the  hospital  the 
soft  breeze  stirred  in  the  trees,  and  the  sunlight 
filtered  through  the  leaves  and  lay  shifting  and 
flickering  on  the  grass.  It  was  one  of  the 
gentle,  young  days  by  which  a  new  summer  is 
brought  in,  and  which  make  it  easy  to  apply  to 
the  ancient  earth  every  metaphor  of  youth  and 
hope.  Outside  the  hospital  gates,  there  rolled 
gay  carriages,  with  occupants  in  fresh,  spring 
toilettes,  smiling  to  one  another  in  congratula 
tion  upon  the  matchless  beauty  of  a  New  York 
May  day.  The  walks  upon  the  avenue  were 
gay  as  the  stream  of  carriages.  Beauty  and 
fashion  on  foot  makes  a  phenomenon  striking  to 
the  eye  of  a  foreigner,  who,  nevertheless,  feels 
in  it  the  charm  of  an  American  city.  Under 
the  high  garden  wall  of  the  hospital,  the  tide 
was  at  its  highest,  —  a  tide  as  constant  and 
punctual  as  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  ocean. 
Men  might  come  and  men  might  go,  but  the 
afternoon  crowd  upon  the  avenue  went  on,  im- 


14  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

mortal.  The  gray  walls  and  the  people  passing 
had  the  sense  of  mutual  permanence  that  made 
them  altogether  thoughtless  of  each  other.  The 
life  outside  seldom  penetrated  to  the  life  beyond 
the  vine-covered  gateway  ;  to  the  life  within,  it 
was  but  the  undertone  of  the  receding  world. 
To  the  sick  and  dying  the  murmur  of  the  street 
was  only  a  symbol  and  abstraction.  To  Rich 
ard  Waring,  also,  as  he  hurried  to  the  hospital 
on  his  grave  errand,  the  crowd  on  the  street  lost 
reality,  and  became  mere  confusion  to  eye  and 
ear  ;  save  for  one  moment,  when,  about  to 
turn  into  the  quiet  side  street,  he  encountered 
Grace  Hathaway  and  her  companion.  The 
girl's  eye  lighted  with  pleasure  as  she  bowed 
to  him,  and  a  half  dozen  pretty  looks  went  in 
and  out  upon  her  face  before  it  settled  again. 
Waring  lifted  his  hat,  but  his  face  lost  none 
of  its  grave  preoccupation. 

"  Papa's  friend,  Mr.  Waring,"  Grace  ex 
plained.  "  He  is  on  the  '  Citizen  '  ;  he  is  one 
of  the  editors." 

"  Is  he  always  as  solemn  as  that  ?  "  her  com 
panion  inquired. 

"  He  is  fascinating,"  Grace  confided,  in  a 
lower  tone. 

"  He  is  very  good-looking,"  said  the  young 
lady  of  seventeen,  judicially  ;  u  though  I  pre 
fer  dark  men,  myself."  Richard  Waring  was 


THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  JAMES  PETEIE.      15 

of  the  pure  Saxon  type,  as  modified  by  two  cen 
turies  in  America. 

The  apparition  of  the  pretty  Grace  was  a 
"  trivial  fond  record,"  quickly  effaced  by  War 
ing.  He  entered  the  hospital  and  made  his  way 
to  a  private  room,  with  perfect  right  and  famil 
iarity. 

"  Give  us  a  little  more  light,  can't  you,  Mrs. 
Jenkins  ?  " 

The  nurse  raised  the  shade.  The  window 
looked  out  into  a  great  tree,  with  the  breeze 
from  the  bay  rustling  its  leaves.  Birds  were 
twittering  in  its  boughs.  Back  of  these  gentle 
sounds  hung  the  great  curtain  of  dull  noise,  — 
the  life  of  the  city.  The  room  was  airy  and 
comfortable,  fitted  up  with  all  the  ingenuities  of 
modern  nursing.  Perfect  scientific  care  was 
evident  in  every  detail.  The  admirable  nurse 
in  attendance  was  a  quiet,  efficient  woman,  who 
spoke  seldom  and  then  to  the  point,  and  obeyed 
orders  with  machine-like  precision.  The  cool, 
safe  accuracy  of  this  sick-room  represented  all 
the  love  and  tenderness  that  money  could  buy. 
One  thing  only  modern  nursing  has  failed  to 
supply  :  the  wealth  of  James  Petrie  could  not 
at  this  final  hour  give  him  home  and  kindred ; 
dear,  familiar  walls  and  loved  faces.  Here  was 
no  love,  no  grief  ;  clean,  bare  walls,  a  competent 
nurse,  and  the  odor  of  disinfectants. 


16  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

So  thought  Waring,  with  love  and  grief,  how 
ever,  in  his  own  face  as  he  came  near  the  bed 
side  of  his  old  friend. 

"  He  ain't  going  to  know  yon,  sir,  to-night," 
said  the  nurse. 

A  shrunken  old  man  lay  on  the  bed.  His 
face  was  pinched  and  narrow  ;  his  thin  hair  was 
tossed  upon  the  pillow.  A  touching  hand  lay 
outside  the  sheet,  —  that  a  man's  right  hand 
should  come  to  this !  It  lay  like  a  sleeping 
child's,  half  open,  as  if  to  receive  something. 
The  slow  heavy  breathing  was  all  of  life  that 
had  not  departed. 

Waring  stood  long  with  bent  head,  in  solemn 
thought.  The  change  in  his  old  friend  was  no 
shock  to  him  ;  he  had  stood  by  his  bedside  day 
by  day  through  a  long  illness. 

"  It 's  a  whim  of  mine,  Dick,"  the  old  man 
had  said  when  he  landed  three  months  before ; 
"  it 's  a  fancy  of  mine  to  come  home  to  die.  I 
wanted  to  die  an  American,  and  lay  my  bones 
in  American  soil.  It  was  la  patrie,  a  pure  sen 
timent,  a  pure  abstraction,  that  brought  me 
home.  I  am  an  utter  stranger.  Kith  and  kin 
I  have  none,  —  a  distant  cousin  or  two,  perhaps, 
though  our  race  has  about  died  out.  Pity  !  It 
ended  in  some  incomparable  old  maids,  —  New 
England  cousins  of  mine,  —  all  dead.  There 
was  one  of  the  other  branch  that  married,  I 


THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  JAMES  PETEIE.      17 

believe,  into  a  good  family,  the  Coverdales,  but 
if  there  are  any  of  the  next  generation,  they 
never  heard  my  name.  I  am  a  stranger,  but, 
thank  God,  I  'm  not  a  man  without  a  country." 
Suddenly,  in  a  different  tone,  he  said,  "  I 
came  home,  too,  because  I  wanted  a  last  look  at 
you,  my  boy."  After  the  shrewd  pause  with 
which  the  old  banker  was  wont  to  preface  an 
important  remark,  he  continued.  "  I  wanted  to 
look  you  over,  my  lad,"  he  said,  with  a  search 
ing  eye.  "  Thirty  —  thirty-five  —  or  there 
abouts,  is  n't  it  ?  Well,  I  wanted  to  see  if  ten 
years  had  made  you  or  marred  you.  I  wanted 
to  see  if  you  were  the  same  lad  I  used  to  have 
such  a  fondness  for.  I  rather  think  you  are," 
said  the  old  gentleman,  with  a  smile  that  Rich 
ard  liked  to  remember.  "  I  believe  it 's  safe  to 
trust  you,"  with  another  smile,  which  months 
after  Waring  recalled,  as  he  studied  his  own 
situation.  "Your  father  was  one  of  the  best 
men  in  our  house.  I  owed  it  to  him  to  look 
after  his  little  boy,  —  all  the  more,  that  your 
mother  married  again  so  soon.  Your  mother 
lives  in  Florence  still,  I  think  you  said.  She 
has  stayed  too  long  in  that  land  of  the  lotus-eat 
ers.  There 's  no  place  that  will  expatriate  you 
more  surely  than  Florence.  I  am  glad  you 
belong  in  New  York.  If  it  can't  be  London  or 
Paris,  then  New  York.  And  a  native  Ameri- 


18  THE  rETRlE  ESTATE. 

can  has  110  business  with  London  or  Paris  ;  he 
misses  the  great  opportunity  if  he  misses  his 
share  in  American  progress.  How  do  things 
over  here  look  to  you,  now  you  are  a  man  grown, 
Richard?" 

Richard,  appealed  to  thus  formally,  had  given 
his  views  with  some  care.  His  older  friend  had 
looked  at  him  with  watchful  measurement.  He 
had  listened  with  the  catlike  attention  with 
which  an  old  college  professor  listens  to  a  boy 
reciting  under  examination,  and,  like  the  college 
professor,  Mr.  Petrie  had  turned,  as  it  were,  to 
a  mental  record  and  entered  a  mark  against 
Richard  Waring's  name. 

"I  am  inclined  to  think  you  are  wrong,  sir." 
James  Petrie's  sir  was  his  extreme  of  severity, 
as  Richard  in  his  teens  had  known.  "  I  am 
inclined  to  think  you  are  also  quite  wrong  about 
yourself.  You  will  live  to  change  your  mind. 
You  say  you  have  made  no  success  of  life,  that 
there  is  no  place  in  this  country  for  men  like 
you.  It 's  unmanly,  sir.  Sit  down,  my  boy,  — 
sit  —  down.  Look  at  me.  I  expect  no  prom 
ises,  mind.  But  I  say  to  you  now  that  it  is  my 
earnest  desire  for  you  that  —  well,  whatever 
turn  your  life  may  take,  you  will  remain  an 
American  on  American  ground.  Hark,  now ! 
Don't  sell  your  birthright.  You  understand 
that  that  is  my  wish.  What  do  you  say  to  it  ?  " 


THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  JAMES  PETEIE.      19 

Waring  said  nothing  beyond  an  expression  of 
respect  for  his  old  friend.  He  felt  like  a  manly 
schoolboy,  whose  dignity  has  been  wounded: 
He  was  not  to  be  coerced  into  promises,  espe 
cially  with  the  bribe  of  a  fortune.  To  his  old 
friend  eying  him,  he  looked  simply  sulky.  The 
good  man  was  hurt  and  angry. 

"  I  want  my  money  spent  in  America,  in  plain 
terms.  What  do  you  say  to  that,  sir  ?  " 

Waring  was  stung  by  the  threat  implied.  He 
forced  himself  to  answer  gently  and  carefully. 
In  substance,  he  refused  to  make  any  promises 
as  to  his  future.  He  pained  himself  and  his  old 
friend,  and  neither  touched  the  subject  again. 
This  had  been  the  one  incident  to  mar  the  ten 
derness  of  their  intercourse  for  three  months. 
Richard  afterwards  reproached  himself  for  not 
indulging  more  gently  what  was  plainly  the  con 
trolling  idea  of  James  Petrie's  last  days. 

"  Draw  your  moral  from  me,"  the  old  man 
would  say.  "A  plain  duty  forty  years  ago  di 
rected  me  to  take  my  father's  place  in  our  Lon 
don  banking-house.  Twenty  years  later  I  might 
have  come  home.  But  it  was  too  late.  I  loved 
my  London  by  that  time.  You  see  me  now 
without  home  or  kindred,  —  a  man  with  five 
hundred  acquaintances,  and  two,  perhaps  three 
friends.  I  have  been  neither  American  nor 
Englishman.  I  have,  counted  for  nothing.  I 


20  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

have  no  ties.  I  have  strengthened  no  bonds.  I 
am  no  loss." 

"  That  you  cannot  say,  sir,"  Waring  an 
swered. 

"  You  will  see  when  I  come  to  die." 

And  now  he  had  come  to  die.  Waring  sat 
down  by  the  bedside,  and  took  the  feeble  hand 
in  his.  He  looked  to  see  some  transfusion  of 
his  own  vigor  into  the  life  ebbing  back  to  eter 
nity.  But  no  sign  of  his  presence  was  given. 
The  separation  had  taken  place  already,  the 
parting  of  which  they  had  spoken  with  the  so 
lemnity  and  courage  of  manly  men.  The  last 
months  had  brought  them  together  again  into 
the  old  intimacy.  James  Petrie  had  talked 
much  of  his  own  life  and  of  the  conclusions 
that  he  now  drew  from  it.  It  seemed  his  desire 
to  leave  to  Waring  a  legacy  of  experience,  that 
Waring  might  repeat  his  successes  and  avoid 
his  mistakes. 

"  Ah,  that 's  a  thing  you  must  do  some  day, 
Dick,"  and  his  fading  eye  would  kindle.  Or  it 
was,  "  Richard,  I  charge  you,  don't  make  the 
mistake  I  did."  One  day  he  spoke  with  energy. 
"  Dick,  why  are  n't  you  looking  about  you  for  a 
wife  ?  It 's  high  time,  my  lad.  Look  at  me. 
You  would  n't  be  like  me,  not  when  the  last 
years  come,  —  not  when  the  last  days  come. 
Lose  no  time  ;  within  a  year,  now  I  " 


THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  JAMES  PETEIE.      21 

The  strength  of  his  old  friend's  affection  was 
evident  to  Richard  not  so  much  through  lavish 
expression,  as  by  this  entering  into  the  younger 
man's  life  and  by  the  transferring  of  his  own 
interests  one  by  one  into  the  keeping  of  Waring. 
It  became  plain  to  Richard  that  he  was  to  in 
herit  a  fortune.  It  was  a  familiar,  happy  con 
sciousness  which  strengthened  the  tie  between 
the  two  men,  one  of  whom  was  making  over  his 
life  to  the  other.  Yet  no  word  passed  between 
them.  Waring  supposed  that  even  the  final 
transfer  of  his  property  would  be  to  this  sanest 
of  business  men  a  transaction  accurate  and 
without  jeopardy  of  sentiment.  Undoubtedly 
his  affairs  were  pigeonholed  by  his  lawyers, 
and  this  reserve  on  his  own  part  was  the  only 
sentiment  that  entered  into  the  matter. 

As  Richard  sat  now  by  the  bedside  and  felt 
the  weak  hand  in  his,  he  was  shaken  with  filial 
sorrow.  His  face  grew  paler  and  the  lines 
about  his  mouth  were  drawn  tense  and  grim. 
Such  feeling  must  give  way  to  the  relief  of 
thought.  Waring  pondered.  This  experience, 
for  the  time  so  personal,  so  isolated,  became  uni 
versal,  —  became  Death.  The  theme  widened, 
then  narrowed  again :  James  Petrie's  death, 
Death,  Richard  Waring's  death.  So  does  all 
great  experience  expand  and  contract.  Waring 
recalled  distinctly  a  day  in  his  thirtieth  year 


22  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

when  the  one  thing  certain  in  his  future  was 
revealed  to  him.  The  day  of  the  knowledge  of 
Death  was  a  milestone  that  marked  his  entrance 
on  the  second  stage  of  life.  The  thrilling  con 
viction  had  many  times  returned  to  him,  yet 
never  to  mar  the  present.  It  was  necessary  to 
the  mature  conception  of  life,  vital  to  the  true 
relation  and  perspective. 

Waring  tenderly  turned  in  his  hand  the  help 
less  fingers.  That  expressive  right  hand  had 
been  so  living  a  part  of  the  man,  animated  as 
his  face,  dramatic  as  his  inflection !  Its  grasp 
had  been  vital  with  friendship ;  the  facile  pen  it 
held  had  written  the  sound  business  letter,  or 
had  replied  to  my  lady's  invitation  with  gallant 
grace.  This  little,  wan  old  man  had  been  the 
dinner-guest  whose  contribution  could  be  abso 
lutely  relied  upon  ;  whose  repartees  would  bear 
to  be  passed  around  next  day. 

Waring  looked  at  his  watch  and  saw  that  two 
hours  had  passed. 

"  lie  's  breathing  slower,  sir,"  said  the  nurse. 

The  heavy,  difficult  breath  came  at  slow,  regu 
lar  intervals,  seeming,  indeed,  as  lifeless  and 
mechanical  as  if  the  soul  had  departed.  Where 
was  the  spirit  in  this  interval  of  waiting? 
Would  the  mystery  of  the  other  life  be  opened 
in  one  blinding  moment  of  revelation,  or  was  the 
secret  stealing  upon  the  soul  already  ?  Was  he 
there,  or  here  ? 


THE  LAST  DAYS   OF  JAMES  PETEIE.     23 

The  doctor  came  in,  and  looked  at  his  patient. 

"  He  may  last  an  hour  —  two  hours.  Shall 
you  wait  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

As  the  sun  went  down,  the  breathing  of  James 
Petrie  grew  slower  and  fainter.  Waring  felt 
the  distance  increasing,  and  the  outer  brink  of 
life  reached  at  last.  He  gave  way  to  his  sorrow, 
and  was  younger  than  he  had  been  for  years. 
His  face  had  aged  in  the  last  hour,  but  he  had 
the  heart  of  the  boy,  clinging  to  his  old  friend 
and  benefactor. 

A  little  later,  he  walked  away  from  the  hos 
pital.  His  task  at  his  office  ended,  he  took  a 
fresh  sheet  and  wrote  a  short  obituary  notice  of 
James  Petrie,  as  tender  and  filial  as  it  was  just 
and  penetrating.  Waring  had  never  done  a 
more  exquisite  bit  of  writing  than  this  brief 
character  sketch.  He  read  it  over,  and  folded  it 
away  among  his  private  papers  ;  there  was  no 
thing  to  record  of  James  Petrie  for  the  public. 
He  himself  had  judged  aright ;  and  the  column 
of  a  newspaper  was  not  the  place  for  the  display 
of  private  affection.  Waring  wrote  out  a  death 
notice  of  grim  simplicity,  which  was  read  the 
next  night  by  Charlotte  Coverdale. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   HATHAWAYS. 

THE  house  occupied  by  the  Hathaways  was 
the  New  York  brown  stone  house.  The  front 
was  narrow,  and  the  stoop  a  trifle  high,  but  the 
effect  was  unexceptionably  genteel.  Mrs.  Hath 
away  held  firmly  to  her  preference  for  a  small 
house  numbered  "  13  West "  to  a  roomy  house 
numbered  "  132  East."  "  There  is  everything 
in  neighborhood,  I  assure  you,"  said  she,  with 
her  whole  weight  upon  every  syllable.  As  for 
the  interior  of  her  home,  she  felt  sure,  whenever 
she  walked  past  her  windows,  that  her  lace  cur 
tains  distinguished  the  house  from  others  on  the 
street.  These  curtains,  exquisite  in  texture  and 
design,  had  been  the  achievement  of  the  past 
year,  as  the  extension  dining-room  had  marked 
the  previous  summer,  the  parlor  fireplace  the 
year  before  that,  and  so  on  back  to  the  begin 
ning  of  her  married  and  housekeeping  life. 

"  It  is  always  more  or  less  of  a  struggle,  but 
when  I  set  my  mind  on  a  thing,  I  generally  carry 
it  through." 

The  long  and  narrow  parlor,  or  drawing-room, 


THE  HATHAWAYS.  25 

as  it  now  began  to  be  called,  again  differed  in 
no  particular  from  other  parlors  down  the  street. 
The  room  was  muffled  and  dim  with  heavy  dra 
peries,  and  bore  no  trace  of  habitation.  In  the 
library,  upon  the  floor  above,  the  home  life  cen 
tred.  Here  one  must  enter  in  order  to  know 
the  Hathaway  family.  The  walls  had  the  richest 
covering  walls  can  have  :  they  were  lined  with 
books  as  high  as  the  arm  could  reach. 

"  Mr.  Hathaway  will  buy  books,"  his  wife 
would  explain  to  the  visitor,  half  in  pride  at  so 
expensive  a  taste  in  her  husband,  half  in  impa 
tience  at  his  folly.  "  He  will  buy  books,  though 
he  never  has  time  to  read  them.  Grace  is  the 
only  one  that  reads.  I  never  want  her  for  any 
thing  that  I  don't  find  her  reading."  Mrs. 
Hathaway  sighed  as  she  continued,  "  Books  are 
a  great  care  ;  they  gather  dust  so.  Men  don't 
realize."  Mrs.  Hathaway  concluded  many  sub 
jects  with  this  axiom  of  her  married  life.  She 
was  a  woman  conscious  of  experience,  which  she 
fancied  she  had  converted  into  wisdom.  "  Men 
don't  realize,"  she  said,  with  her  overdone  em 
phasis,  and  one  and  another  of  her  married 
friends  assented. 

"  I  let  my  family  run  riot  in  this  room,"  she 
would  continue  ;  although  the  room,  like  the 
rest  of  her  house,  was  in  admirable  order. 
"  Grace  always  leaves  her  fancy-work  about," 


26  THE  rETRIE  ESTATE. 

Mrs.  Hathaway  further  apologized.  "  This  is  a 
sof  a-pillow.  Are  n't  the  colors  odd  ?  So  new  ! 
But  do  you  know  how  enormously  those  shades 
cost  ?  "  and  she  lowered  her  voice  and  looked  at 
her  friend  with  solemn  eyes. 

"  I  let  my  family  do  anything-  they  like  here. 
I  believe  in  making  people  comfortable,  don't 
you?  I  let  Mr.  Hathaway  smoke  here.  I 
think  he 's  never  so  happy  as  when  we  are  all 
out  of  the  way,  and  he  and  Dick  Waring  sit 
here  and  smoke.  I  tell  Mr.  Hathaway  when  he 
gets  home  from  his  business  —  half  the  time  he 
does  n't  get  home  till  after  seven,  and  the  dinner 
waiting  —  well,  I  tell  him  he  is  good  for  nothing 
but  that  easy-chair.  And  he  says  so  himself. 
I  have  done  long  ago  trying  to  drag  him  about 
evenings.  I  leave  him  here  quietly,  and,  if  you 
will  believe  it,  I  sometimes  come  home  and  find 
that  he  has  been  asleep  all  the  evening,  and  lias 
just  waked  up  as  I  come  in.  Or  I  find  that 
Dick  Waring  has  been  in  late,  and  there  are 
those  two  men,  talking  as  fast  as  —  any  of  us. 
W/iat  they  find  to  talk  about !  " 

John  Hathaway  had  never  said  it  to  anybody, 
but  he  knew  after  his  own  fashion  that  by  the 
library  fire  of  a  Sunday  night  he  came  nearer 
being  a  happy  man  than  at  any  other  time.  As 
lie  settled  back  in  his  easy -chair,  he  loved  his 
wife  for  the  comfort  aboiit  him  and  for  the 


THE  HATH  AW  AYS.  27 

children  hovering  around  his  chair.  Hatha- 
way's  content  was  all  the  greater  when,  as  hap 
pened  frequently,  Richard  Waring  dropped  in 
for  Sunday  night  tea,  and  lingered  through 
the  evening,  reading,  talking,  or  sitting  silent. 
It  mattered  not  much  to  Hathaway  which  he 
did  :  their  friendship  had  long  ago  reached  the 
privilege  of  silence.  It  mattered  little,  too,  to 
Grace  whether  there  was  talking,  so  long  as  from 
her  window  seat  she  could  watch  the  group  on 
the  hearth-rug  and  could  keep  Richard  Waring' s 
fine  profile  clear  cut  in  the  firelight. 

"Grace,  come,"  said  her  father  to-night, 
"you  are  cold  by  that  window.  Come  up  by 
the  fire." 

But  Grace  would  not  move,  to  break  the  spell 
in  which  she  sat.  She  shrank  from  approach 
ing  nearer  to  Waring,  and  she  drew  the  heavy 
window-curtains  around  her  that  he  might  not 
see  her. 

Mrs.  Hathaway  sat  in  a  low  chair,  and  looked 
thoughtfully  into  the  fire,  as  she  gathered  little 
Patty  into  her  arms.  Waring  noticed  the  pic 
ture,  and  reflected  that  it  was  Mrs.  Hathaway 
at  her  best ;  that  it  was  any  woman  at  her  best, 
—  by  her  own  hearthstone,  with  a  child's  arms 
about  her  neck.  He  thought  distastefully  of 
other  ideals  that  were  gaining  upon  the  modern 
world. 


28  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

"  We  have  hardly  seen  you  since  last  May, 
Richard,"  said  Mrs.  Hathaway,  her  tenderness 
for  her  little  girl  still  in  her  voice.  "  And  here 
it  is  the  first  of  October,  and  really  chilly.  Put 
on  another  stick,  won't  you,  John  ?  Very  few 
people  are  back  yet ;  but  of  course  we  don't 
pretend  to  be  fashionable.  I  expect  cousin 
Charlotte  next  week.  Patty,  if  you  sit  in  my 
lap,  you  must  sit  still.  You  have  never  seen 
Charlotte,  Richard.  Well,  get  down,  Patty,  if 
you  want  to.  Go  to  your  papa.  I  have  hardly 
seen  Charlotte  at  all  the  last  dozen  years  ;  just 
short  calls  when  she  has  been  in  the  city.  You 
remember  Charlotte,  don't  you,  John?  " 

"  At  your  aunt  Cornelia's,  yes,  years  ago. 
A  tall,  shy  young  thing,  always  disappearing 
with  a  book,  — generally  a  book  too  big  for  her. 
Sometimes  I  got  her  in  a  corner,  and  we  had 
famous  talks.  It  seems  queer  she  's  the  girl." 

"  That  all  this  has  happened  to,"  continued 
Mrs.  Hathaway.  "  Well,  I  was  going  to  tell 
you.  It  was  the  most  extraordinary  thing.  And 
it  is  a  comfort  to  think  that  extraordinary  things 
do  happen  occasionally  still.  But,  Richard,  you 
must  know  all  about  it,  now  I  come  to  think ; 
for  I  remember  your  speaking  last  spring  about 
that  old  Mr.  Petrie  that  had  lived  all  his  life  in 
London,  and  came  over  to  New  York  and  died. 
So  sad,  was  n't  it  ?  " 


THE  HATHAWAYS.  29 

This  was  one  of  the  evenings  when  Waring 
did  not  seem  inclined  to  talk. 

"  There  was  nobody  for  him  to  leave  his 
money  to,"  Mrs.  Hathaway  further  explained, 
"  and  when  no  will  was  found,  of  course  it  had 
to  go  to  the  nearest  relative  he  had,  and  that 
was  only  his  cousin's  child.  That  happened  to 
be  my  cousin,  Charlotte  Coverdale.  I  belong 
on  the  other  side  of  the  family,  I  am  sorry  to 
say.  Come,  children,  you  must  go  to  bed." 

"  I  want  to  sit  up,"  said  Patty  flatly. 

"  I  am  too  old  to  go  to  bed  at  nine  o'clock," 
pleaded  Ned.  "  And  I  'm  too  old  to  be  kissed," 
he  ad.led,  when  that  was  attempted. 

"  Give  them  another  half  hour,  Sue,"  their 
father  interceded. 

"  I  know  what,"  said  Grace.  "  They  want  to 
hear  about  cousin  Charlotte.  They  like  to  hear 
it  over  and  over  again,  like  a  story.  Fancy 
those  children  !  " 

"  Well,  Charlotte  is  coming  to  live  in  New 
York.  She  is  coming  to  the  city  next  week,  and 
I  have  invited  her  to  make  me  a  visit  first.  I 
must  say  I  rather  dread  it  myself.  Charlotte  is 
so  —  so  —  well,  I  suppose  you  would  call  it  supe 
rior,  as  much  as  anything." 

"  Is  she  pretty  ?  "  came  Grace's  voice  from 
the  window. 

"  Hardly  pretty." 


30  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

"Is  she  young  or  old,  mamma  ?  " 

"Neither,"  answered  Mrs.  Hathaway,  though 
she  was  not  given  to  epigrams.  "  You  could 
calculate  her  age,  but  you  could  hardly  guess  it. 
It  is  troublesome,  because  you  don't  know  how 
to  take  her." 

"  Is  she  awfully  bright  ?  " 

"  I  never  heard  anybody  call  her  brilliant. 
Richard,  I  want  you  to  meet  her,"  she  added. 
"  She  will  want  to  meet  literary  people,  I  sup 
pose." 

"  Thank  you,  I  shall  be  honored." 

"  Isn't  it  thrilling?"  said  Grace,  with  a  deep 
breath.  "  Do  you  think  she  will  really  live  on 
Van  Hatten  Park,  mamma?" 

"  It  seems  that  there  belonged  to  the  Petrie 
estate  an  old  house  on  Van  Hatten  Park  —  a 
fine  house  in  its  day  —  that  has  been  used  for  a 
boarding-house  for  years.  What  does  that  girl 
propose  to  do  but  take  possession  of  that  old 
house,  and  there  she  is  going  to  live  all  by  her 
self.  She  will  have  aunt  Cornelia  ;  but  aunt 
Cornelia  wouldn't  be  my  idea  of  a  lively  time, 
I  can  tell  you.  And  what  is  money  for  ?  Char 
lotte  talks  very  prettily  about  independence  and 
a  home  of  her  own.  Of  course  she  has  money 
enough  for  anything." 

Certain  shattered  projects  of  Mrs.  Ilathaway's 
miffhfc  have  been  detected  beneath  this  criti- 


THE  HATHAWAYS.  31 

cism  of  Charlotte,  especially  when  she  added, 
"  Of  course,  I  had  no  room  to  take  her  in.  I 
could  n't  think  of  such  an  idea." 

"  She  has  done  a  sensible  thing,  in  my  opin 
ion,"  said  Hathaway. 

"Oh,  well,"  his  wife  replied,  "that's  your 
way  of  looking  at  things.  As  for  Van  Hatten 
Park,  though  it  is  very  far  down,  and  away  off 
to  the  east,  still  nice  people  do  live  there  yet,  — 
people  with  money.  Everybody  in  New  York 
is  n't  as  indifferent  to  money  as  you  are,  Rich 
ard."  Mrs.  Hathaway  smiled  at  him  in  an  in 
dulgent  mood.  "  I  don't  think  Charlotte  is,  for 
instance.  She  seemed  as  pleased  as  a  child  in 
the  letter  she  wrote  me.  That  is  what  I  mean, 
—  sometimes  she  seems  so  young,  don't  you 
understand  ?  " 

Waring  was  wondering  how  much  more  of  this 
sort  of  thing  he  had  to  sit  out,  when  Mrs.  Hath 
away  rose  with  the  children  and  marched  them 
off  to  bed.  Grace  hesitated  a  moment,  then  fol 
lowed  her  mother  out  of  the  room.  She  looked 
back  as  she  reached  the  door,  to  see  whether 
Waring  noticed  her.  He  was  looking  into  the 
fire,  sad  and  preoccupied,  and  Grace  went  slowly 
down  the  stairs. 

The  two  men  left  by  themselves  did  not  speak 
for  some  moments.  Said  John  Hathaway  at 
last,  "  Will  you  have  a  cigar,  Waring  ?  " 


32  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

"  I  don't  care  if  I  do." 

A  long  silence  followed,  but  talk  was  brewing. 
Hathaway  was  meditating  :  his  kind,  tired  eyes 
sharpened  and  became  shrewd,  as  they  did 
whenever  values  were  in  question.  It  was 
plain  that  he  was  weighing  something  in  his 
mind,  as  he  looked  earnestly  at  his  friend  with 
out  speaking.  The  mingling  of  smoke  was  suf 
ficient  substitute  for  the  mingling  of  ideas,  and 
neither  was  conscious  of  the  silence. 

At  last  Hathaway  went  back  to  the  beginning 
of  his  thoughts  and  spoke  out.  "  Waring,  you 
never  told  me  the  whole  story  about  old  Petrie." 

"Your  wife  has  the  facts.  No  will  was  found, 
and  the  property  went  to  the  nearest  heir,  — 
this  cousin  of  yours,  it  seems." 

"  I  had  a  notion  that  that  money  would  go  to 
you,  Waring." 

"  I  supposed  he  had  made  a  will.  His  law 
yers  knew  he  had.  He  never  told  me  in  so 
many  words,  but  I  had  good  reason  to  believe 
that  he  meant  me  to  inherit  a  part,  at  least,  of 
his  property.  His  lawyers  know  that  when  he 
arrived  in  this  country  he  had  in  his  possession 
a  will  made  some  time  ago  in  London,  lie 
consulted  them  about  its  validity.  He  did  not 
mention  names,  but  his  intentions  were  clear 
enough.  Of  course  he  may  have  destroyed  it. 
He  had  caprices  in  his  last  days.  He  was  very 


THE  HATHAWAYS.  33 

angry  with  rne  once.  But  no,  I  do  my  best  not 
to  think  that :  he  was  too  kind  and  just  a  man. 
The  best  friend  I  ever  had,  John." 

Richard  Waring  did  not  wear  his  heart  on 
his  sleeve  ;  it  took  the  quiet  Sunday  night,  the 
warmth  of  Hathaway's  friendship,  and  the  gentle 
influence  of  Hathaway's  best  cigar,  to  elicit  so 
tender  a  recital  as  the  story  he  told  of  James 
Petrie. 

"  That  was  what  he  did  for  me,  John,"  he 
concluded,  "  and  I  loved  him." 

"  I  wish  he  had  left  you  that  money,"  said 
John  Hathaway  meditatively. 

"  For  more  than  the  money's  sake  I  wish  he 
had.  It  makes  a  break  that  is  a  sorrow  to  me. 
I  tell  you  I  fight  against  the  idea  that  he  disin 
herited  me,  but  it  gets  the  better  of  me  some 
times.  There  are  the  whims  of  a  sick  man." 

"  I  believe  the  will  is  in  existence,"  said  John 
stoutly. 

"  An  expert  search  was  made.  Nothing  was 
found  among  his  belongings." 

"  How  much  does  my  wife's  cousin  know  about 
this?" 

"Nothing  whatever.  I  prefer  not  to  pose 
before  Miss  Coverdale  or  before  the  world  as 
a  disappointed  heir.  I  "11  thank  you  never  to 
mention  my  connection  with  the  business.  The 
lawyers  are  discreet.  Miss  Coverdale  has  never 


34  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

heard  my  name.  I  was  sorry  that  she  was  your 
cousin.  I  did  n't  care  to  run  against  her.  I 
would  rather  dismiss  the  whole  subject.  I  may 
meet  this  young  lady  as  your  wife's  cousin,  but 
I  prefer  not  to  meet  her  as  James  Petrie's 
cousin.  Take  care  what  you  say  to  her.  And 
look  after  your  wife,  too.  Let 's  drop  the  whole 
subject.  Here  's  an  end  of  it." 

"  What  became  of  all  his  trunks  and  boxes?" 

"  Everything  was  passed  over  to  her." 

"  She  will  be  the  one  to  find  that  will  some 
day,  mark  my  words.  What  then  ?  " 

Waring  expressed  his  impatience  without  tak 
ing  his  cigar  out  of  his  mouth. 

"You  will  have  to  settle  it  between  you, 
Dick.  There  would  be  one  very  simple  way." 
John  laughed,  and  Richard  declined  to  hear. 

"  Upon  my  word.  I  believe  that 's  the  way  it 
will  end,  Dick.  All  I  want  is  to  see  how  the 
thing  works  out.  All  the  world  's  a  stage,  and 
all  the  men  and  women  merely  players." 

"•  When  did  you  take  to  quoting  Shake 
speare  ?  You  make  me  think  of  a  clever  old 
dame  I  fell  in  with  the  other  day,  who  quotes 
him  inordinately." 

"  Let  me  see  her." 

"  An  old  lady  with  a  turn  for  proverbial  phi 
losophy.     But  she  carries  it  off  with  a  laugh,  — 
I  declare,  a  laugh  the  feminine  of  Falstaff's ! 
Bisbee,  Mrs.  Bisbee,  they  said  she  was." 


THE  HATH  AW  AYS.  35 

There  was  a  lull,  and  Hathaway  kept  up  his 
meditation. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  blame  you  for  not  want 
ing  to  meet  her,  Dick,"  was  the  final  outcome 
of  his  reflections.  "  I  doubt  if  she  's  your  style 
of  woman.  I  haven't  seen  her  lately,  but  I 
believe  she  belongs  to  the  new  dispensation." 

"  I  know  the  type,"  said  Waring  briefly. 

Again  the  conversation  dropped,  though 
friendly  intercourse  went  on  uninterrupted. 

"  Have  you  seen  Jebb's  article  in  the  '  Fo 
rum  '  ?  "  said  Waring  at  length. 

"It 's  there  on  the  table,  but  I  get  no  time  to 
read.  I  have  not  read  a  book  for  ten  years,  — 
except  now  and  then  a  novel." 

"  What 's  the  trouble,  Hathaway  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  am  your  American  busi 
ness  man,  that 's  all.  There  has  been  enough 
written  about  me  for  me  to  recognize  myself  by 
this  time.  It 's  all  true,  that 's  the  worst  of  it. 
I  am  always  in  a  hurry.  I  am  prematurely  gray, 
old  at  forty-two.  I  have  no  leisure,  and,  worse 
than  that,  I  am  uneasy  under  it  when  I  do  have 
any.  I  go  to  my  office  on  a  holiday.  I  am  in 
capable  of  a  holiday.  I  have  lost  the  facility 
of  recreation.  About  the  highest  pleasure  I 
have  left  is  poking  the  fire  here.  I  have  no 
rational  amusements.  Sometimes  I  go  to  the 
theatre,  but  I  have  not  mind  enough  left  by 


36  THE  PETIUE  ESTATE. 

sundown  for  anything  but  a  farce.  I  laugh,  but 
it 's  the  laugh  of  imbecility.  As  for  reading, 
if  I  take  up  a  book  that  is  —  well,  that  is 
worthy  of  me,  I  am  asleep  in  five  minutes,  and 
take  to  the  sofa  to  finish  the  evening.  I  buy 
books.  It  's  my  one  indulgence.  I  like  to 
handle  them,  but  there  it  ends.  I  used  to  talk, 
but  I  believe  I  'm  known  now  as  a  silent  man. 
I  am  dull  and  commonplace,  just  as  they  de 
scribe  me.  Beyond  my  business,  I  don't  origi 
nate  an  idea  in  six  months.  And  my  mind 
was  n't  always  in  this  torpid  state.  You  knew 
me  fifteen  years  ago,  say  ?  " 

"  I  knew  you  for  the  brightest  fellow  of  the 
lot.  You  have  simply  put  your  mind  into  busi 
ness.  You  have  built  up  your  business  from  a 
small  beginning.  Intellect  is  intellect." 

"  I  have  heard  enough  about  the  American 
love  of  money.  I  don't  love  money.  If  1  could 
by  any  honest  means  become  a  poor  man,  —  but 
there  's  my  family  to  think  of.  I  must  be  able 
to  rely  on  a  certain  income,  and  more  every 
year,  for  some  reason.  We  began  plainly 
enough,  Sue  and  I,  out  in  a  suburb.  But  com 
ing  to  the  city  to  live  has  altered  things.  We 
must  do  like  other  people,  as  Sue  says.  But 
you  can  see,  Waring,  that  a  man  situated  as  I 
am  must  be  able  to  rely  on  a  certain  income," 
repeated  Hathaway,  with  a  worried  contraction 


THE  HATH  AW  AYS.  37 

of  the  brow  and  restless  glancing  of  the  eyes. 
"  I  must  work  ;  there  's  no  help  for  it.  What 
would  you  have  me  do  ?  " 

Waring  would  have  enjoyed  a  neat  denuncia 
tion  of  Mrs.  Hathaway,  and  he  determined  to 
have  it  out  with  the  public  if  he  could  not  utter 
his  opinion  of  her  at  her  own  fireside.  He  had 
long  set  Mrs.  Hathaway  down  as  an  enemy  of 
society. 

"  Are  you  studying  my  case  ?  "  said  Hatha 
way  at  length. 

"  Yes." 

"  Do  you  see  any  remedy  ?  " 

"  Not  for  you." 

"  I  told  you  so.  Don't  write  any  more  about 
me." 

Hathaway  fell  to  poking  the  fire.  With  a 
new  stick  and  a  new  blaze,  he  changed  the  sub 
ject  completely. 

"  Strange  how  the  sanest  of  business  men 
lose  their  heads  when  it  comes  to  will-making. 
That 's  the  reason  they  furnish  the  everlasting 
theme  for  the  story- writer.  You  see  I  cannot 
get  this  thing  out  of  my  mind.  What  can  the 
old  fellow  have  done  with  that  bit  of  paper  ?  I 
confess  I  am  curious  to  see  the  girl  that  has 
come  into  the  property ;  to  see  how  she  carries 
herself  under  a  fortune.  Charlotte,  her  name 
is  —  Charlotte,  Charlotte.'1'1  The  friends  again 
relapsed  into  confidential  silence. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CHARLOTTE    IN    NEW    YORK. 

CHARLOTTE  had  arrived  at  nine  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  was  now  in  her  room,  preparing  for 
breakfast.  Mrs.  Hathaway  was  moving  about 
her  parlor,  adjusting  chairs  and  bric-a-brac,  with 
the  renewed  interest  in  her  possessions  that  every 
woman  feels  when  they  are  to  meet  a  stranger's 
eye.  She  advanced,  retreated,  studied  the  effect, 
altered  a  bit  of  drapery,  then  drew  away  again 
to  be  certain  of  the  impression.  She  spoke  ab 
sently  to  Grace,  so  absorbed  was  she  in  prepar 
ing  the  right  effect  for  Charlotte.  "  Do  you 
think  you  shall  like  her?  How  would  it  do  to 
draw  that  table  around  ?  " 

"  She  is  beautiful,"  said  Grace  fervently. 

u  She  looks  tired,  and  that  makes  her  look 
old.  There,  how  will  that  do?  But  what  wo 
man  does  n't  look  old  after  a  night  in  a  sleeping- 
car?  What  but  a  man  could  sleep  in  a  sleeping- 
car?  It  shows  the  difference,  I  'm  sure  !  "  sighed 
Mrs.  Hathaway,  who  never  wholly  forgave  her 
husband  that  he  slept  well  on  a  night  journey. 
She  made  it  a  point  of  superiority  in  her  sex 


CHARLOTTE  IN  NEW  YOKE.  39 

that  their  finer  organization  forbade  rest  in  ir 
regular  places. 

"You  should  show  a  little  interest,  Grace. 
How  does  that  strike  you  ?  You  have  your 
ideas." 

Grace  gave  her  opinion  faithfully,  but  did  not 
cease  her  dreaming.  The  girl  had  begun  early 
to  live  other  people's  lives,  and  at  this  moment 
she  had  lost  herself  in  Charlotte.  She  watched 
her  cousin  silently  and  intently  when  she  came 
down  to  breakfast.  Charlotte  was  pale,  and  there 
were  dusky  circles  under  her  eyes.  Romantic 
Grace  was  forced  to  notice  that  after  steak  and 
coffee  her  heroine's  color  returned,  and  her  eyes 
brightened.  She  could,  moreover,  discover  in 
Charlotte  no  consciousness  of  her  new  fortunes ; 
she  found  the  talk  commonplace,  except  that,  so 
the  girl  puzzled  within  herself,  when  cousin 
Charlotte  said  the  thing,  you  always  listened, 
and,  especially,  you  always  looked.  See  Ned  and 
Patty  hovering  about  the  table ! 

"  Ned,"  said  his  mother,  "  do  go  and  get  your 
other  necktie  on  —  not  that  mussy  one." 

Ned  remonstrated.  "  I  am  afraid  cousin 
Charlotte  will  say  something  while  I  am  gone." 

"  If  there  is  n't  a  compliment,  cousin  Char 
lotte  !  "  cried  Grace  delightedly. 

But  Mrs.  Hathaway  was  quick  to  explain  the 
compliment  away.  "  That  is  always  the  way 


40  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

with  children  when  there  's  company  in  the  house. 
They  will  hang  about." 

Grace  waited  and  listened  for  some  reference 
to  great  events.  The  subject  was  finally  ap 
proached  prosaically  enough,  she  lamented. 

"  I  suppose  your  trunks  will  be  here  directly," 
said  Mrs.  Hathaway. 

"  I  have  only  one  with  me.  I  brought  it  on 
the  carriage." 

Mrs.  Hathaway  was  not  a  subtle  thinker.  "  I 
suppose  you  will  have  a  great  deal  of  shopping 
to  do,"  was  her  next  remark. 

"Oh, yes,"  said  Charlotte,  without  offense,  and 
with  the  glad,  girlish  air  with  which  she  seemed 
to  have  stepped  into  her  fortune.  Mrs.  Hatha 
way  smiled  with  sympathy,  quite  carried  away 
by  the  sight  of  Charlotte's  happiness. 

"  You  don't  know  how  we  all  enjoy  it,  cousin 
Charlotte  !  "  Grace  broke  out. 

"  Say  '  Charlotte,'  "  said  Charlotte  joyously. 

"You  do  seem  young,"  Mrs.  Hathaway  re 
marked,  intently. 

"  I  have  been  old  and  am  young  again.  I  feel 
so  indeed." 

"  It  is  a  great  change  for  you,  this  money. 
John  says  the  Petrie  estate  is  very  large." 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  great  change."  To  Grace,  the 
words  were  eloquent,  and  Charlotte  was  beauti 
ful  as  she  said  them. 


CHARLOTTE  IN  NEW  YORK.  41 

Charlotte  was  as  yet  in  the  care-free  enjoy 
ment  of  her  wealth  ;  its  responsibilities  had  not 
yet  weighed  upon  her.  Except  at  brief  moments 
she  took  it  lightly  and  gayly,  with  a  joyous  antici 
pation  of  spending  and  having.  There  came  a 
time  when  she  looked  back  upon  this  period  of 
her  fortunes  with  curiosity,  and  with  a  certain 
satisfaction  that  she  had-  known  the  simple  and 
pagan  enjoyment  of  riches.  She  loved  her  money, 
and  she  was  supremely  happy  in  material  things, 
which  seemed  all  at  once  to  give  color  and  sub 
stance  to  her  outward  life.  It  was  not  in  her 
nature  to  linger  upon  this  level,  but  when  she 
rose  from  it,  it  was  with  a  full  comprehension  of 
those  who  never  get  beyond  the  period  of  mere 
possession.  She  knew  the  temptations,  the  satis 
factions,  and  the  limit  of  happiness  of  those  who 
live  to  have. 

"  You  will  stay  with  us  till  you  go  into  your 
house,  Charlotte  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Hathaway  affec 
tionately.  Her  new  warmth  towards  her  cousin 
would  be  unjustly  attributed  to  Charlotte's  in 
creased  importance  as  a  woman  of  fortune.  It 
was  the  same  expansion  of  heart  that  all  Char 
lotte's  friends  had  felt  on  hearing  of  the  pictur 
esque  change  in  her  lot.  All  mankind  loves  ro 
mance,  and  in  America  the  romance  of  money  is 
dear  to  the  imagination.  Said  Mrs.  Hathaway 
again,  "  You  will  stay  with  us  as  long  as  you 
can,  Charlotte  ?  " 


42  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

"  A  week,  Sue.  Then  I  must  begin  work  upon 
my  house.  Until  I  can  go  into  it,  I  shall  stay 
very  near  there,  at  a  place  that  my  friend  Mrs. 
Appleby  has  recommended  to  me.  I  have  my 
house  to  furnish  from  attic  to  cellar,  you  know, 
Sue." 

The  conversation  settled  down  comfortably  to 
a  discussion  of  curtains,  carpets,  and  uphol 
stery. 

The  family  assembled  again  at  dinner,  and 
Charlotte  then  met  John  Hathaway,  for  the 
first  time  for  several  years.  He  had  expected  to 
find  a  change  from  her  slim,  awkward  girlhood, 
but  the  first  sight  of  her  took  him  aback. 
"  Upon  my  word,"  he  thought,  "  has  money  done 
all  this?" 

Charlotte's  bright  glance  went  from  one  to  the 
other  at  the  table,  and  rested  upon  Patty,  oppo 
site.  Patty  was  a  little  schoolgirl  of  twelve, 
who  did  not  take  kindly  to  books,  and  whose 
favorite  role  at  home  was  that  of  the  school- 
martyr.  She  had  come  to  the  table  to-night 
with  a  careworn  pucker  of  her  little  brow. 

"  Hullo,  Patty,  what 's  the  matter  ?  "  said  her 
father. 

"  It 's  the  most  terrible  jography  lesson.  She 
always  gives  us  dreadful  lessons."  Patty  over 
did  her  sigh,  and  they  all  laughed,  till  her  mo 
ther  said,  "  I  can't  have  the  child  worried.  I 


CHARLOTTE  IN  NEW  YORK.  43 

shall  have  her  drop  something.  I  will  see  my 
children  happy." 

"  Oh,  brace  up,  Patty,"  said  her  father  gayly. 

"  I  guess  I  shall  go  to  college."  Ned  offered 
this  information  to  Charlotte  aside,  and  she  met 
his  confidence  with  such  interest  in  her  kind 
eyes  that  the  question  was  settled  for  him  then 
and  there.  "  I  am  going  in  four  years,"  he 
added. 

The  talk  at  table  fell  chiefly  to  Hathaway, 
drawn  on  by  Charlotte.  Naturally,  the  conver 
sation  was  referred  to  her,  as  the  guest.  Char 
lotte  glanced  from  Hathaway  to  his  wife  and 
back  again,  with  pretty  congratulation  for  Mrs. 
Plathaway  whenever  her  husband  said  a  good 
thing. 

Hathaway  mentioned  James  Petrie,  and  spoke 
of  him  as  Charlotte  wished  him  to  be  spoken  of. 
Few  people  had  pleased  her  when,  in  congratu 
lating  her  upon  her  fortune,  they  had  indulged  in 
a  facetious  word  about  obliging  distant  cousins. 

"  My  friend  Waring  knew  him  well,"  John 
Hathaway  added  carelessly. 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  meet  any  one  who  knew 
him,"  said  Charlotte  with  earnestness. 

"  Oh,  you  will  meet  Waring.  Yes,  there  was 
something  that  took  hold  of  you  in  the  old  man's 
getting  home  to  die.  I  was  reminded  of  it  by 
an  experience  of  Waring' s  the  other  day.  He 


44  THE  PETE  IE  ESTATE. 

was  on  the  ferry-boat,  and  he  fell  in  with  a 
pathetic  old  Frenchman,  stranded  in  America. 
Waring  warmed  his  heart  by  talking  French  to 
him,  and  the  poor  old  fellow  let  it  all  out.  It 
was  the  same  story,  only  lower  down ;  old  and 
lonely  and  longing  for  his  native  land,  but 
without  a  penny  to  get  there.  The  amount  of  it 
was,  Waring  paid  his  passage  home." 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  Charlotte. 

"  That 's  the  kind  of  a  fellow  Waring  is. 
He  's  got  that  streak  in  him.  I  've  a  notion  he 
was  thinking  of  the  other,  —  of  your  old  cousin." 

"  That  makes  five  times  I  have  heard  you  tell 
that  story,  John."  Mrs.  Hathaway  did  not 
speak  unamiably.  Her  high,  even  voice  was 
always  the  same.  It  sounded  of  innutrition, 
spiritual  and  intellectual.  Mrs.  Hathaway  tock 
infinite  pains  that  her  personal  appearance  should 
make  the  right  impression,  at  a  glance.  She  had 
not,  however,  taken  so  good  care  of  her  voice  as 
of  her  complexion,  and  the  illusion  vanished 
with  her  speech,  itself  the  subtlest  of  first  impres 
sions.  Moreover,  Mrs.  Hathaway  had  dropped 
politeness  with  her  husband  soon  after  her 
marriage,  as  she  had  "  dropped  "  her  music,  for 
more  serious  affairs.  She  had  soon  begun  to 
keep  her  love  as  she  did  her  religion,  for  ecstatic 
moments,  without  carrying  either  into  the  details 
of  life. 


CHARLOTTE  IN  NEW  YORK.  45 

Charlotte  was  still  musing  upon  Waring's 
quixotism,  and  so  apparently  was  Hathaway, 
for  he  said  presently,  "  By  the  way,  Grace,  I  saw 
Waring  to-day.  He  inquired  how  you  got  on 
with  Motley.  He  has  lent  her  Motley's  '  Dutch 
Republic,'"  Hathaway  explained. 

"  I  should  think  we  had  books  enough  in  the 
house  without  borrowing,"  said  Mrs.  Hathaway. 

"  Not  Motley,  mamma." 

"  If  Richard  Waring  says  she  must  read  a 
book,  why,  read  it  she  must." 

Charlotte  wondered  if  it  were  the  fire  of  Mot 
ley's  epic  that  brought  the  color  to  Grace's  face. 
A  suspicion  had  been  awakened  as  she  had 
watched  the  young  girl  listen  to  her  father's 
story. 

"It's  perfectly  grand,"  said  Grace, ignoring 
mention  of  Waring.  Then,  with  an  overflow  of 
confidence,  she  turned  to  Charlotte,  "  Oh,  don't 
you  think  it  is  lovely  to  talk  about  books  ?  " 
Her  father  gave  a  boyish  shout  of  amusement, 
and  her  mother  said  comfortably,  "  Well,  you 
have  got  somebody  now  to  talk  books  with, 
have  n't  you  ?  " 

Charlotte  smiled  at  Grace,  and  gave  her  hand 
a  little  squeeze  under  the  table.  Their  friend 
ship  was  plighted. 

Mrs.  Hathaway  had  by  this  time  seen  the  last 
course  of  the  dinner  well  under  way,  and  turned 
to  Charlotte  for  a  little  conversation. 


46  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

A  week  later  Charlotte  left  the  Hathaways 
and  took  up  her  temporary  abode  at  a  house 
on  Van  Hatten  Park,  two  doors  away  from  her 
future  home.  Although  this  was  undeniably  a 
boarding-house,  yet  Charlotte,  like  many  an 
other,  dated  from  it  some  of  her  happiest  ex 
periences.  There  were,  to  be  sure,  the  usual 
dramatis  personce  :  the  young  married  couple, 
lacking  the  courage  of  their  conviction  that  a 
home  is  the  earthly  heaven  ;  there  was  the  mid 
dle-aged  married  couple,  the  lady  preferring  to 
wear  diamonds  in  a  boarding-house  rather  than 
keep  house  in  a  flat ;  and  there  were  the  el 
derly,  childless,  homeless  husband  and  wife. 
There  was  also  the  married  lady  whose  hus 
band  one  must  not  inquire  for,  and,  again,  two 
or  three  small-faced,  slim-legged  children,  in  a 
state  of  suppression.  Finally,  there  were  at 
least  three  or  four  people  whose  acquaintance 
was  worth  cultivating.  There  was  that  pleas 
ant  old  gentleman,  the  senior  boarder,  —  almost 
a  boarder  emeritus,  in  fact,  since  after  he  had 
spent  twenty  years  in  her  third  floor  back,  the 
landlady  had  insisted  on  reducing  the  price  of 
his  board.  She  was  a  business  woman,  and 
was  sure  of  a  fair  equivalent.  No  person  made 
application  at  her  house  who  was  not  informed 
that  Mr.  Pilkington  had  been  with  her  twenty 
years.  He  was  a  kindly  old  man,  who  all  his 


CHARLOTTE  IN  NEW  YORK.  47 

life  had  carried  his  head  a  little  on  one  side. 
He  went  slowly  up  and  down  the  stairs,  bowing 
courteously  to  the  ladies,  politely  flattening  him 
self  against  the  wall  as  they  passed,  and  offering 
them  his  newspaper  or  reporting  the  state  of  the 
thermometer.  There  was  one  lady  among  them, 
towards  whom,  at  table,  he  always  bent  his  more 
reliable  ear.  This  was  Mrs.  Bisbee,  a  widow  of 
less  than  moderate  means,  who  occupied  a  hall 
bedroom  on  the  fourth  floor.  When  Charlotte 
first  appeared  at  dinner,  Mrs.  Bisbee  was  ab 
sent,  and  the  boarding-house  hush  prevailed. 

"  Mr.  Pilkingtoii,  where  is  Mrs.  Bisbee  ?  " 
asked  one  married  lady.  That  Mrs.  Bisbee  and 
Mr.  Pilkington  were  "  devoted "  to  each  other 
was  a  light  fiction  of  the  boarding-house.  Mrs. 
Bisbee  humored  the  comedy  and  frankly  paired 
herself  off  in  conversation  with  the  old  gentle 
man  daily  at  dinner. 

"  Yes,  where  is  Mrs.  Bisbee  ?  "  was  echoed 
down  the  table. 

"  We  always  miss  Mrs.  Bisbee,"  started  at  the 
head  and  passed  around  the  board.  Then  the 
hush  settled  again,  and  the  business  of  eating 
proceeded  swiftly  and  silently. 

Charlotte  laid  her  head  on  her  pillow  that 
night  in  unreasoning  and  helpless  depression  of 
spirits.  She  felt  herself  neither  in  the  old  life 
nor  in  the  new.  She  had  burned  her  ships 


48  THE  PET  HIE  ESTATE. 

behind  her  happily  and  honorably.  There  was 
nothing  to  regret ;  yet  she  sighed  with  the  inevi 
table  nostalgia  for  the  past.  There  was  nothing 
to  regret ;  and  she  reviewed  the  course  of  events 
at  High  Hill  Seminary.  The  trustees  had,  at 
the  close  of  the  last  school  year,  expressed  their 
high  sense  of  Miss  Trowbridge's  services,  and 
had  begged  her  to  accept  relief  from  her  duties 
and  a  handsome  provision  for  the  future.  She 
had  received  their  proposition  with  a  correspond 
ing  high  sense  of  her  services,  and  had  retired 
with  unshaken  dignity  and  unsuspicious  satisfac 
tion  with  her  career.  The  trustees  then  pro 
ceeded  :  they  invited  Miss  Coverdale  to  become 
the  head  of  High  Hill  Seminary.  Her  decision, 
as  it  happened,  was  aided  by  the  fact  that  at 
her  side  was  an  able  woman,  her  warm  friend, 
and  the  next  in  succession,  as  Charlotte  was 
aware,  in  the  eyes  of  the  governing  board.  The 
trustees  received  Charlotte's  resignation  with 
regret  and  deliberation.  They  were  not  a  soul 
less  corporation  ;  their  strong  business  sense 
was  dashed  with  nineteenth-century  chivalry. 
A  fine  idea  prevailed  among  them  and  elevated 
their  thoughts,  while  it  worked  for  the  elevation 
of  woman.  At  the  annual  meeting  the  body 
was  agitated  with  a  still  more  advanced  idea. 
This  took  shape  in  the  election  of  Miss  Cover- 
dale  as  a  member  of  their  body,  though  never 


CHARLOTTE  IN  NEW  YORK.  49 

before  had  a  woman  taken  her  seat  among  them. 
Thus  the  old  life  had  closed  behind  Charlotte, 
and  the  new  world  lay  ahead. 

The  next  night  Mrs.  Bisbee  appeared  at  the 
table,  and  the  landlady  said,  "  Mrs.  Bisbee,  I  '11 
make  you  acquainted  with  Miss  Coverdale,  sit- 
tin'  beside  you." 

Mrs.  Bisbee  was  short  and  stout.  She  had  a 
laugh  that  had  extracted  the  last  drop  of  humor 
from  every  experience,  and  that  had  been  her 
preservative  in  a  life  full  of  vicissitudes.  This 
laugh  was  thorough  and  searching  ;  it  made  no 
sound,  but  shook  her  gently  from  head  to  foot, 
and  in  its  vibration  caught  up  her  neighbors. 
Mrs.  Bisbee  had  a  bright  little  eye,  that  was  gay 
at  a  variety  of  things,  from  a  sparkling  epigram 
to  a  tempting  dessert.  She  was  never  shabby, 
yet  she  was  always  badly  dressed.  She  might 
stand  before  her  glass  properly  attired,  but  five 
minutes  later  every  article  of  her  dress  would 
have  begun  to  pull  the  wrong  way.  Her  bonnet 
slid  to  the  back  of  her  head,  a  standing  collar 
fell  flat,  a  flat  collar  stood  up,  her  waist  skewed 
to  the  left,  her  skirt  to  the  right.  "  The  fact  is, 
my  dear,  I  need  a  daughter."  So  she  would  say 
often,  for  Mrs.  Bisbee  was  so  excellent  a  phi 
losopher  and  humorist  that  she  could  see  her 
self. 

She  greeted  Charlotte  briskly  upon  the  land- 


50  TI1E  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

lady's  introduction,  and  told  her  an  anecdote  at 
once.  "  I  lost  no  time,"  Mrs.  Bisbee  explained 
long  after.  "  I  tried  you  and  found  you  were 
quick  to  be  amused.  That 's  a  great  qualifica 
tion  in  my  eyes.  They  never  insist  upon  it  in 
the  books,  but  how  intolerable  my  heroine  would 
be  without  humor !  "  In  Mrs.  Bisbee's  roomy 
nature  there  was  place  for  all  kinds  of  men  and 
women,  save  one  species  :  she  had  no  tolerance 
for  the  literal-minded.  Dull  she  pronounced 
with  a  prolonged  and  deadly  emphasis.  Face- 
tiousness  without  wit,  and  philosophy  without 
wisdom  were  alike  odious  to  Mrs.  Bisbee  ;  nor 
had  she  any  charity  for  those  who  told  their 
dreams.  It  went  hard  with  her  when  her  own 
talk  was  subjected  to  a  literal  interpreter.  She 
did  not  forget  that  sweet  young  English  girl 
who  greeted  her  best  stories  with  "  No  ? 
Keally  ?  Fancy  !  "  For  Mrs.  Bisbee  made  it 
a  principle  never  to  spoil  a  good  story  by  slav 
ish  adherence  to  truth,  and  those  who  listened 
to  her  from  year  to  year  remarked  upon  the 
added  flavor  and  mellowness  which  time  lent  to 
her  excellent  repertory.  Under  the  stimulus  of 
a  bright  new  listener,  Mrs.  Bisbee  was  at  her 
best  this  evening.  Not  the  homage  of  Mr.  Pil- 
kington's  bow  across  the  table  was  so  warming 
to  her  wit  as  Charlotte's  keen,  delighted  glance. 
A  healthy  murmur  went  up  and  down  the  table ; 


CHARLOTTE  IN  NEW  YORK.  51 

the  apathy  of  the  previous  night  was  shaken  off, 
and  the  boarders  lingered  over  their  coffee. 

"Upon  my  word,"  said  Mrs.  Bisbee,  "it's 
getting  late,"  and  she  consulted  her  easy-going 
watch  and  calculated  the  hour  with  tolerable 
accuracy.  "  I  am  going  to  a  symphony  con 
cert." 

"It  's  precisely  twenty -seven  minutes  to 
eight,"  said  Mr.  Pilkington,  watch  in  hand. 
Mrs.  Bisbee  herself  told  time  in  round  num 
bers,  with  a  generous  margin  in  your  favor.  It 
was  impossible  to  lose  a  train  upon  her  calcu 
lation.  This  habit  was  trying  to  Mr.  Pilking 
ton,  who  was  of  the  opinion  that  an  accurate 
time-piece  in  a  man's  pocket  is  the  basis  of  a 
well-ordered  life.  To  women  he  leniently  al 
lowed  a  different  standard,  regarding  an  irregu 
lar  watch  as  consistent  with  other  feminine  per 
turbations.  A  care  of  their  watches  was  one  of 
his  courteous  little  attentions  to  the  houseful 
of  ladies.  Mrs.  Bisbee  tolerantly  allowed  him 
to  set  hers  right,  knowing  well  that  it  would 
gain  upon  him  by  ten  minutes  in  the  next 
twenty-four  hours. 

Mrs.  Bisbee  and  Charlotte  walked  up  the 
stairs  together.  "  From  New  England  ?  from 
the  Connecticut  Valley  ?  A  good  point  of  de 
parture  !  An  admirable  place  to  be  born,  — 
none  better;  and  a  quiet  place  to  die.  But 


52  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

in  the  mean  while  —  New  York  !  So  you  have 
come  here  to  live.  That 's  good  !  " 

The  Hathaways  were  still  talking  of  Char 
lotte. 

"  When  will  she  come  again  to  make  us  a 
visit  ?  "  Patty  pleaded. 

"  Do  you  think  she  will  ever  be  married, 
mamma  ?  "  said  Grace  dreamily. 

"  She  's  not  very  likely  to  be.  They  gener 
ally  go  into  philanthropy  at  her  age.  Still,  she 
may,  with  her  money." 


CHAPTER  V. 

25    VAN    HATTEN    PARK. 

BUSY  days  followed.  Mrs.  Hathaway,  Grace, 
and  Charlotte  inspected  25  Van  Hatten  Park  to 
gether.  As  Charlotte  fitted  the  key  into  the 
door  of  her  own  home,  a  current  of  happiness 
set  through  her  heart.  That  the  house  was 
empty  and  echoing  mattered  little ;  she  passed 
from  room  to  room,  in  full  consciousness  of  a 
fateful  and  memorable  moment.  She  meant  to 
remember  and  treasure  it ;  for,  with  the  self -con 
sciousness  of  maturity,  she  knew,  on  the  instant, 
the  depth  of  an  experience  and  its  future  value. 

As  for  Grace,  she  was  turning  the  leaves  of 
a  new  novel.  "How  thrilling !  "  she  murmured, 
catching  her  cousin's  hand. 

Mrs.  Hathaway  recalled  them  to  a  business 
like  examination  of  the  house.  Charlotte  found 
that  it  had  many  good  points.  The  fine  rose 
wood  doors,  the  delicately  wrought  fireplaces, 
the  large,  old-fashioned  mirrors,  and  the  noble 
stairway  with  stately  landing,  —  all  were  fea 
tures  of  the  old  New  York  house  which  she  would 


54  THE  PETUIE  ESTATE. 

jealously  preserve.  It  happened  to  be  an  Eng 
lish  basement  house,  and  Charlotte  quickly  ap 
propriated  each  room  :  the  reception-room  on 
the  right  for  strangers,  the  drawing-room  above 
for  guests,  the  library  in  the  rear  for  friends. 
Upstairs  there  was  the  sunny  chamber  for  aunt 
Cornelia.  The  front  windows  of  the  house  com 
manded  the  Park.  More  than  anything  else 
this  view  from  her  drawing-room  gave  Charlotte 
the  sensation  of  a  new  life  beginning.  The 
sparkle  of  a  fountain,  the  flash  of  a  white  statue 
through  the  green,  the  gay  autumn  foliage  beds, 
all  gleaming  and  glancing  in  the  keen  October 
sunshine,  seemed  there  that  they  might  typify 
the  new  brightness  of  her  lot.  She  took  meas 
urements  joyously,  buoyant  with  the  power  to 
spend.  Even  to  Sue  Hathaway  she  was  warmed 
to  speak  out  her  thoughts,  taking  the  risk  of 
comprehension.  "  Sue,  it  seems  to  me  stranger 
every  day  that  I  can  have  these  things  for  the 
asking, —  I,  who  never  had  a  superfluous  thing 
in  my  life." 

"  You  will  find  it  hard  in  shopping  to  get 
exactly  what  you  want.  You  can  hardly  have 
tilings  for  the  asking,  even  if  you  have  plenty 
of  money.  It  takes  a  very  experienced  shopper." 

Such  a  shopper  Mrs.  Hathaway  indeed  was  ; 
and  next  to  the  pleasure  of  spending  money  on 
her  own  behalf,  was  her  honest  delight  in  sug- 


25  VAN  HATTEN  PARK.  55 

gesting  to  other  people  how  to  spend  theirs. 
Charlotte  found  her  most  helpful  and  obliging 
in  the  weeks  that  followed,  while  Mrs.  Hath 
away  liked  her  cousin  better  that  she  was  so 
teachable,  and  her  talk  so  comprehensible  and 
so  free  from  classical  allusions.  "  It 's  a  good 
while  since  she  went  to  college,"  was  Mrs.  Hath- 
away's  conclusion.  "  I  presume  she  's  forgotten 
most  of  it." 

Charlotte,  in  fact,  went  about  among  the 
shops  in  company  with  Mrs.  Hathaway,  and 
gave  herself  up  to  simple  revelry  among  beauti 
ful  furniture  and  decorations.  The  sensuous 
delights  of  shopping  she  tasted  to  the  full.  She 
loved  color  as  a  child  loves  sweet  things  ;  she 
handled  an  exquisite  fabric  with  a  penetrating 
delight ;  she  sank  into  a  luxurious  chair  with 
an  abandoned  content. 

"  I  confess  I  am  puzzled,"  said  Mrs.  Hath 
away.  "  Where  did  you  get  your  taste  ?  " 

Charlotte  was  oddly  susceptible  to  the  ap 
proval  of  her  cousin.  The  relations  between 
women  of  widely  different  calibre  are  delicate 
and  complicated  ;  and  it  is  oftener  the  superior 
woman  who  receives  the  wound.  Charlotte  felt 
now  and  again  cut  off  from  the  common  lot  of 
woman  by  Mrs.  Hathaway's  surprise  at  any 
feminine  taste  or  instinct  on  her  part. 

"  Why  in  the  world  should  you  want  a  house 


66  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

of  your  own  ?  "  Mrs.  Hathaway  had  said.  "  I 
thought  you  were  all  for  Looks."  An  anomaly 
that  Sue  could  never  account  for  was  the  fact 
that  the  sentiment  of  home  could  exist  iu  a  wo 
man's  heart,  unsupported  by  husband  and  chil 
dren.  It  was  a  freak,  she  was  sure  ;  it  could 
never  last.  More  than  once  lately  Mrs.  Hath 
away  had  contemplated  her  cousin  and  had  re 
flected,  "  She  is  very  much  like  other  women, 
after  all."  Charlotte  would  have  been  touched 
and  grateful  had  she  heard  this  praise. 

25  Van  Hatten  Park  grew  in  character  and 
completeness  day  by  day.  Charlotte  had  seen 
but  few  New  York  interiors,  and  by  sheer  inex 
perience  she  gave  her  house  individuality.  Igno 
rance,  it  is  true,  was  supplemented  by  taste  and 
originality,  and  a  high  authority  pronounced  the 
result  a  "  creation."  To  tell  the  truth,  Char 
lotte's  house  had  been  furnished  largely  out  of 
her  dreams.  It  was  the  product  of  imagination, 
working  for  years  to  create  an  ideal  home. 

"  And  now  the  next  thing,  I  suppose,  is  aunt 
Cornelia,"  said  Mrs.  Hathaway.  "You  really 
do  need  her  for  a  finishing  touch." 

O 

It  was  another  of  Charlotte's  historic  moments 
when  she  led  her  aunt  to  the  beautiful  room 
which  was  to  be  hers. 

In  appearance  aunt  Cornelia  was  a  tall,  deli 
cate,  but  well-preserved  woman  of  seventy.  In 


25  VAN  HATTEN  PARK.  57 

her  face  was  the  beauty  of  health  and  character, 
which  was  now  her  compensation  for  a  plain 
girlhood.  A  life  of  kindness  was  written  upon 
her  features,  of  goodness  unmarred  by  self-ap 
probation.  She  lived  quite  unaware  that  she 
left  behind  her  a  gently  shining  wake  of  good 
deeds.  Not  that  Miss  Cornelia  Coverdale  was 
faultless.  It  would  have  been  easy  to  call  her 
narrow.  For  example,  the  United  States,  to  her 
mind,  had  never  grown  much  beyond  the  thir 
teen  original  colonies.  The  outlying  region  to 
the  west  she  turned  her  back  upon  in  willing 
ignorance.  She  was  even  provincial  within  her 
province,  and  lived  in  a  Massachusetts  of  her 
own.  Certain  tales  of  New  England  life  which 
Charlotte  had  found  delightful  and  had  com 
mended  to  her  aunt,  that  good  lady  had  read 
kindly  and  faithfully;  but  she  was  obliged  to 
tell  her  niece  that  she  had  never  seen  such  peo 
ple.  They  might  exist  in  some  remote  part  of 
the  State,  she  added  gently.  The  dialect  of 
these  stories  was  an  affliction  to  her :  their 
grammar  and  idioms  were  lamentable,  and  not 
to  be  perpetuated.  In  short,  this  was  not  her 
New  England,  the  abode  of  poets,  saints,  and 
scholars.  Aunt  Cornelia  was  quite  unaware  that 
she  spoke  a  New  England  idiom  of  her  own 
social  rank,  which  for  Charlotte's  ear  had  al 
ways  a  delightful  relish.  While  Miss  Cornelia 


58  THE  PETUIE  ESTATE. 

was  geographically  a  narrow  American,  in  point 
of  time  she  clung  to  her  country  in  its  heroic 
epochs.  The  America  of  the  Revolution  and  the 
Civil  War  was  the  only  one  she  knew  or  cared 
about.  She  had  been  held  up  in  her  father's 
arms  to  see  Lafayette  pass  by,  and  so  helped  to 
close  the  Revolutionary  period;  and  she  had 
passed  through  the  Civil  War  in  the  anguish 
and  rapture  of  patriotism,  —  the  strongest  emo 
tion  she  had  ever  known. 

On  the  whole  her  life  had  been  serene  and 
happy,  without  vivid  joys,  and  with  but  one 
great  sorrow.  When  her  younger  brother,  Char 
lotte's  father,  died  in  battle,  people  watched 
Miss  Cornelia.  They  called  her  "  greatly  soft 
ened,"  though  she  had  been  a  blameless  girl 
and  woman.  She  was,  rather,  greatly  instructed ; 
she  was  taught  to  the  utmost  of  her  capacity. 
Working  mysteriously,  this  sorrow  gave  her 
comprehension  of  her  niece's  character  and  fu 
ture.  There  came  the  question  whether  Char 
lotte's  little  inheritance  should  be  expended  on 
a  generous  education  for  the  girl,  or  should  be 
reserved  to  supply  an  income  for  her  wardrobe, 
while  Charlotte  lived  at  home  witli  her  aunt. 
There  was  nothing  narrow  in  Miss  Cornelia's 
decision.  Education  was  to  her  truly  a  treasure 
that  neither  moth  nor  rust  could  corrupt.  She 
even  counseled  and  aided  a  year  of  foreign  life 


25  VAN  II ATT  EN  PARK.  59 

for  her  niece,  while  she  herself  sat  at  home  and 
followed  Charlotte's  wanderings  with  books  of 
travel  from  the  library.  Aunt  Cornelia  had  an 
uncovetous  reverence  for  things  that  she  did  not 
possess.  "  Education  "  and  "  Europe  "  were 
among  her  hallowed  words.  Her  mind  dwelt 
much  in  the  Old  World,  occupied  as  her  days 
were  with  letters,  memoirs,  and  biographies  of 
great  Englishmen.  The  Lake  coterie  were  her 
intimates,  and  she  quoted  them  as  if  she  had 
met  them  by  the  road  that  morning.  Their  bio 
graphies,  however,  she  knew  far  better  than 
their  writings.  The  daily  course  of  Words 
worth's  life  was  more  familiar  to  her  than  that 
of  her  next-door  neighbor,  for  Miss  Cornelia  was 
reserved  in  her  relations  with  people  outside  of 
books.  She  had,  for  instance,  a  great  tender 
ness  for  love  stories,  while  in  real  life  she  felt 
only  embarrassment  in  the  face  of  romance.  As 
a  young  girl,  Miss  Cornelia  had,  by  her  own 
fright,  intimidated  more  than  one  would-be  lover. 
Finally  one  appeared  whom  she  would  have  liked 
to  love,  but  the  stronger  her  inclination  grew,  the 
more  chilling  her  behavior  became.  The  young 
fellow  was  modest,  and  inexperienced  in  the  ways 
of  women  ;  he  acted  on  what  he  thought  an  un 
mistakable  hint,  and  relapsed  into  friendship. 
Then  began  a  sad  season  for  Miss  Cornelia,  in 
which  she  dreamed  by  day  and  by  night  of  her 


60  THE  PETIUE  ESTATE. 

lost  lover.  Through  one  long  sleep  she  saw  him, 
with  all  confessed  and  composed  between  them. 
In  her  dream  he  stooped  and  kissed  her,  and 
her  whole  life  lay  before  her  in  joy  and  peace. 
That  dream  kiss  was  the  only  lover's  kiss  her 
lips  had  ever  known. 

Time  went  on,  but  not  unhappily.  There 
were  years  when  she  dreamed  of  a  lover  ;  then 
followed  years  that  were  harder,  when  she  looked 
at  little  children  with  wistful  eyes,  and  buried, 
by  force,  regrets  that  resisted  all  gentle  reason 
ing.  But  by  and  by  came  serenity,  to  which 
any  change  would  have  been  rude  and  disturb 
ing.  Moreover,  aunt  Cornelia's  life  had  been 
filled  out  by  the  charge  of  her  niece,  which  had 
fallen  to  her  upon  the  death  of  Charlotte's  par 
ents. 

"  Nature  intended  you  for  an  aunt,"  Charlotte 
had  said  laughingly  and  lovingly,  before  she 
was  quite  old  enough  to  know  the  full  weight  of 
words.  Aunt  Cornelia  smiled  upon  her,  but  sat 
thoughtful  afterwards. 

By  the  time  her  aunt  arrived  in  New  York, 
Charlotte  and  Mrs.  Bisbee  were  sworn  friends 
and  neighbors.  With  some  misgivings  Char 
lotte  brought  together  her  aunt  and  her  new 
acquaintance.  She  watched  them  for  a  few 
minutes,  then  made  an  excuse  for  leaving  them 
together.  They  got  on  somewhat  after  this 


25  VAN  II ATT  EN  PARE.  61 

fashion.  Mrs.  Bisbee  said  something  congrat 
ulatory  about  Miss  Cornelia's  arrival  in  New 
York  for  the  winter. 

"  She  is  very  dear  to  me.  It  was  right  that  I 
should  make  the  sacrifice,"  was  the  reply. 

Mrs.  Bisbee  sought  for  another  subject.  She 
never  quite  knew  how  it  came  to  be  the  obser 
vance  of  Sunday,  but  she  was  soon  saying  stoutly, 
"  I  am  not  superstitious,  but  I  do  believe  that 
every  human  being  needs  to  put  in  for  repairs  at 
least  once  a  week.  And  for  my  part,  it  does  me 
good  to  go  to  church  and  sit  in  the  corner  of 
my  pew  and  call  myself  a  miserable  sinner." 

"  I  am  not  an  Episcopalian"  said  aunt  Cor 
nelia,  with  gentle  correction.  "  But  I  feel  quite 
as  you  do  about  the  corner  of  my  pew,"  she 
added. 

Mrs.  Bisbee  was  five  minutes  later  saying 
something  about  her  poverty,  and  following  it 
up  with  a  quiver  of  laughter.  This  was  also 
not  a  topic  to  aunt  Cornelia's  taste,  who  held 
that  one's  poverty  was  no  more  to  be  talked 
about  than  one's  religion  or  one's  early  love 
affairs.  She  and  her  circle  were  not  accustomed 
to  make  light  jokes  about  their  incomes,  after 
the  manner  of  these  New  York  Bohemians. 
Nevertheless,  in  her  own  fashion,  aunt  Corne 
lia  divided  the  world  into  rich  and  poor;  "a 
person  of  narrow  means "  was  spoken  of  with 


62  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

expressive  pinching  of  the  lips,  while  "  a  person 
of  ample  means "  was  mentioned  in  large  and 
generous  tones.  Mrs.  Bisbee's  rollicking  treat 
ment  of  so  serious  a  subject  embarrassed  Miss 
Cornelia,  and  made  another  hitch  in  the  conver 
sation.  Mrs.  Bisbee  bethought  her  of  common 
ground.  "  Your  niece  is  a  fine  girl,"  she  said. 
Miss  Cornelia  could  not  praise  her  niece  to  a 
stranger  ;  but  she  accepted  Mrs.  Bisbee's  com 
pliment  without  arguing  against  it,  as  she 
would  have  dealt  with  any  compliment  to  her 
self.  "  This  establishment  of  hers  does  very 
well  for  the  present,"  Mrs.  Bisbee  continued. 
"  It  is  the  proper  background.  But  we  must 
see  her  well  married  before  long." 

"  My  niece  has  had  her  opportunities,"  said 
aunt  Cornelia,  drawing  back  with  dignity. 

"  No  doubt.  But  you  have  kept  her  out  of 
the  world." 

This  was  unjust  to  Miss  Cornelia,  who  replied, 
"  Charlotte  has  seen  a  great  deal  of  general  so- 

o  o 

ciety.     She  has  met  many  pleasant  people." 

Mrs.  Bisbee  recognized  the  euphemism  with 
relish.  "Ah,  men,  you  mean.  Nobody  good 
enough  for  her,  I  suppose.  Not  till  God  make 
men  of  some  other  metal  than  earth,  eh  ?  " 

"  I  should  hardly  put  it  that  way,"  said  Miss 
Cornelia. 

"  Nor  I,  either,"   said  Mrs.   Bisbee  heartily. 


25  VAN  HATTEN  PARK.  63 

"  I  have  never  believed  in  putting  it  that  way. 
But  we  must  look  about  us,  you  and  I." 

Miss  Cornelia  did  not  enter  into  this  partner 
ship  with  enthusiasm.  "  I  have  always  believed 
that  time  would  take  care  of  such  matters." 

"  Not  at  all.  It  is  circumstances,  and  cir 
cumstances  can  be  manipulated." 

Aunt  Cornelia  did  not  know  what  to  say  to 
this  ;  she  had  never  before  heard  such  a  remark. 

After  Mrs.  Bisbee  had  gone,  Miss  Cornelia 
summoned  courage  to  say,  "  Do  you  altogether 
like  her,  dear  ?  Is  n't  she  a  little  too  —  a  little 
lacking  in  —  I  find  it  difficult  to  express  my 
self." 

"  Yes,  dear  aunt,  she  is.  She  is  a  Bohemian, 
of  upper  Bohemia." 

"  A  little  "  - 

"  Rowdy  !  "  laughed  Charlotte. 

"  Oh,  I  should  hardly  wish  to  use  so  strong  a 
word.  A  little  given  to  exaggeration,  I  should 
call  her."  Aunt  Cornelia  was  delicate  accuracy 
itself.  "  Says  some  things  that  are  unneces 
sary."  This  was  the  good  lady's  strongest 
word  of  criticism,  used  especially  of  literature. 
Bad  taste  or  bad  morals  were  alike  to  Miss 
Cornelia  unnecessary.  "  But,  then,"  she  added, 
"  you  say  she  has  been  a  good  many  years  a 
widow." 

As  for  Mrs.  Bisbee,  on  her  return  home,  she 


64  TUE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

said  to  Mr.  Pilkington  a  remarkably  clover 
thin"1  about  Miss  Coverdale's  aunt,  so  clever 

O 

that  it  made  the  old  gentleman  blink,  and  say, 
"  Well,  well !  "  It  shall  not  be  repeated  here, 
for  a  half  hour  later  Mrs.  Bisbee  had  thought 
it  over  and  was  sorry  that  she  had  said  it.  She 
was  a  woman  of  a  kind  heart  and  a  sharp 
tongue,  which  kept  her  perpetually  in  a  state 
of  repentance  and  reparation.  The  next  time 
that  she  saw  Charlotte,  she  retrieved  herself  by 
speaking  of  Miss  Cornelia  with  such  heartiness 
and  acuteness  as  made  Charlotte  look  at  her 
with  admiration.  She  had  not  expected  the 
two  to  like  each  other  at  first  sight.  But  Mrs. 
Bisbee  had  gone  unerringly  to  aunt  Cornelia's 
strong  points,  with  the  same  insight  by  which 
she  had  detected  her  foibles. 

Meanwhile  Miss  Cornelia  was  striving  hero 
ically  to  become  wonted  to  New  York.  Char 
lotte  found  that  so  long  as  her  aunt  remained  at 
home  she  was  tolerably  content.  The  life  of  the 
streets,  an  increasing  delight  to  Charlotte,  ex 
cited  in  her  aunt  only  terror  and  pity.  "  Thanks 
be  to  a  merciful  Providence,"  murmured  the  old 
lady  when  safely  across  the  stream  of  Broad 
way  ;  while  on  every  side  she  saw  sights  to  con 
fuse  her  sense  of  a  merciful  Providence.  Neg 
lected  children,  the  unwashed  and  unkissed, 
were  her  special  anxiety.  She  would  go  home 


25  VAN  UATTEN  PARK.  65 

to  think  for  hours  after,  of  a  certain  little  news 
boy  with  lines  in  his  forehead,  and  a  sharp 
elbow  pricking  through  his  jacket.  One  danced 
up  to  her  with  an  evening  paper,  and  while  she 
answered  kindly,  "  No,  dear  !  "  she  said  to  Char 
lotte,  "  He  has  a  nice  little  face.  I  hope  he  will 
grow  up  to  be  a  good  man."  Charlotte  hoped 
so,  indeed.  "  I  think  I  must  give  him  a  cent," 
pleaded  aunt  Cornelia,  half  ashamed.  "  He 
couldn't  expect  me  to  carry  a  pink  paper, 
could  he,  dear  ?  " 

"  I  would  take  his  paper,  aunt  Cornelia," 
said  Charlotte.  "  He  is  a  little  business  man." 

"  I  hope  he  goes  to  bed  early,"  aunt  Cornelia 
ended. 

The  maimed,  the  halt,  and  the  blind  upon  the 
streets  rent  the  heart  of  aunt  Cornelia.  She 
wanted  them  sent  to  their  respective  institu 
tions,  and  begged  Charlotte  to  look  up  the  regu 
lations.  The  fruit  venders  at  the  corners  she 
took  under  her  protection,  wondering  if  the 
day's  sales  had  been  good,  if  011  that  day  the 
apples  were  specking  fast,  and  dreading  to  think 
that  probably  these  wan  Italians  lived  on  their 
cast-off  .fruit.  The  condition  of  the  streets 
themselves  outraged  aunt  Cornelia's  sensibili 
ties.  "  Shiftless  and  thriftless,"  she  pronounced 
a  city  which  could  not  keep  itself  clean. 

Charlotte    followed    her   aunt's    observations 


66  THE  PETKIE  ESTATE. 

and  conclusions  thoughtfully ;  while  aunt  Cor 
nelia  ventured  less  and  less  into  the  region  be 
yond  Van  llatten  Park,  Charlotte  was  drawn 
day  by  day  more  strongly  into  the  outer  life  of 
the  city. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  WHAT    TO    DO  ?" 

IT  was  a  bright  Sunday  morning  in  Novem 
ber  when  Charlotte,  011  her  way  home  from 
church,  dropped  in  to  see  her  cousins,  the  Hath- 
aways.  She  found  the  Sunday  family  group, 
which  at  once  fell  into  a  little  audience,  calling 
for  an  account  of  Charlotte  since  last  they  met. 
Sue  by  and  by  detached  herself  from  the  group 
and  complimented  her  cousin  upon  her  fine 
color. 

"  Walking  against  the  wind,  Sue,  that  is  all." 

"  You  look  ready  for  anything." 

"  That  is  it,  exactly.  Advise  me,  friends." 
Charlotte  gave  a  happy  toss  of  her  head,  this 
time  in  the  direction  of  John  Hathaway. 
"What  should  I  do  next?"  It  was  a  serious 
challenge  for  advice  from  him.  He  had  had 
first  to  look  at  her,  then  to  hear  her  question ; 
consequently,  his  wife  was  ready  before  him. 

"  You  will  find  enough  to  do  when  the  season 
fairly  begins.  You  will  be  invited  everywhere, 
knowing  the  people  you  do,  to  start  with. 


G8  THE  I'ETRIE  ESTATE. 

"When  the  whirl  begins  "  —  the  burden  of  that 
period  could  be  expressed  only  by  the  sigh  of 
martyrdom.  "  When  you  once  begin  "  —  the 
rest  was  unutterable.  Charlotte's  eyes  shone, 
but  Sue  mistook  them.  "  Ah,  you  won't  care 
so  much  about  it  after  a  winter  or  two.  Then 
you  will  simply  know  that  it  is  your  duty.  I 
go  about,  and  make  an  effort,  simply  for  my 
children's  good.  They  must  have  a  place  in  the 
world." 

Truth  alloyed  with  worldliness  had  many 
times  set  Charlotte  thinking  since  she  had 
taken  up  her  abode  in  New  York. 

Still  John  Hathaway  had  not  answered  her 
challenge,  and  she  looked  towards  him  once 
more. 

"  "Well,  Charlotte,  if  you  were  a  man,  I  should 
say  that  you  had  enough  to  do  to  take  care  of 
your  property." 

"•  But  being  a  woman  "  — 

"  I  suppose  you  will  leave  it  to  lawyers  and 
agents." 

"  I  have,  completely,  thus  far.  I  don't  know 
what  my  property  is.  They  talk  a  great  deal 
about  the  Petrie  estate,  but  I  have  no  idea 
what  it  looks  like.  It  all  seems  like  a  dream, 
my  inheriting  cousin  James  Petrie's  money." 

"  I  should  think  it  was  a  very  pleasant 
dream,"  said  Mrs.  Hathaway  comfortably. 


"  WHAT  TO  DO?"  69 

"  I  wish  I  could  have  known  him.  It  keeps 
me  feeling  ungrateful  and  unfilial,  that  I  was 
nothing  to  him." 

"  Oh,  I  call  that  sentimental,"  said  Sue. 

"  Yes,  I  know  it  is.  I  know  that  I  was  the 
only  one  to  inherit  the  money.  I  should  feel 
differently  if  I  were  depriving  any  one  else  of 
it.  I  shall  try  to  use  it  well,  for  his  sake  ;  I 
shall  try  to  have  it  reach  the  right  people." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hathaway  looked  at  each  other 
and  thought  of  Waring. 

"  I  know  the  property  is  largely  real  estate  in 
New  York,"  Charlotte  continued. 

"  Down  town,  on  the  east  side." 

"  I  want  to  see  it." 

"You'd  better  not." 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  " 

"  You  might  not  think  your  wealth  such  a 
pleasant  dream,  that 's  all." 

"  Tell  me  "  - 

"  When  your  cousin  sent  over  money  for 
American  investment,  his  agents  over  here  put 
it  into  real  estate  of  the  most  paying  kind,  tene 
ment  houses,  that  is,  down  town.  Your  cousin 
knew  nothing  about  it.  Talk  about  absentee 
landlordism !  We  've  got  all  the  evils  of  it 
right  here  at  our  doors.  Your  cousin  only 
knew  he  got  a  big  interest  on  his  money.  So 
will  you." 


70  THE  PETtilE  ESTATE. 

"  I  have  read  a  great  deal  about  New  York 
tenement  houses,"  said  Charlotte  solemnly. 

"Better  not  read  any  more,  then." 

"  Don't  be  fastening  your  wraps,  Charlotte. 
Stay  to  dinner,"  said  Mrs.  Hathaway. 

"  Not  to-day,  Sue.  The  servants  will  wait  for 
me,  and  they  go  out  on  Sunday." 

"  Dear  me  !  I  hope  you  're  not  beginning  by 
being  afraid  of  your  servants." 

Charlotte  had  begun  by  being  business-like 
with  her  servants.  Having  been  a  worker  her 
self,  she  protected  her  servants'  leisure  as  she 
had  wished  her  own  to  be  respected.  More 
over,  she  often  told  herself  that  it  was  a  weak 
ness  of  her  character  to  be  easily  just  and  ten 
der  to  inferiors,  and  with  a  greater  effort  to 
deal  magnanimously  with  equals  and  superiors. 

"  Don't  think  they  are  always  to  have  their 
own  way  even  if  you  have  promised  them 
some  things.  I  have  had  some  experience," 
Mrs.  Hathaway  continued.  The  advice  of  her 
cousin  was  to  Charlotte,  at  times,  the  most  de 
lectable  and  characteristic  thing  she  had  found  ; 
at  other  times  it  was  like  the  humming  of  a 
mosquito  in  her  ear.  Her  face  flushed,  and  she 
gathered  the  fur  about  her  throat  with  decision. 

"  1  would  n't  let  those  tenement  houses  weigh 
on  your  mind,  Charlotte,"  said  Hathaway,  fol 
lowing  her  to  the  door.  "Are  you  walking 
home?" 


u  WHAT  TO  DO?"  71 

"  Yes,  I  must,"  said  Charlotte.  Under  stress 
of  thought,  walking  was  her  relief. 

"  Then  let  me  walk  with  you." 

She  hardly  noticed  what  he  said,  as  she  spoke 
quickly.  "  Then  I  am  one  of  the  people  to 
blame.  I  can  fasten  the  blame  on  myself.  It 
is  I  who  must  do  something." 

"  There  is  not  much  use.  It  won't  do  to 
look  too  closely  into  one's  investments." 

"  But  are  n't  we  bound  to  know  what  our 
money  is  doing  ?  If  it  is  not  idle,  it  must  be 
working  for  good  or  evil.  I  would  rather  have 
my  capital  tied  up  in  an  old  stocking  than  "  — 

"  In  some  Western  mortgages,"  Hathaway 
supplied.  "  I  don't  much  blame  you,"  he  said, 
admiring  the  vagaries  of  a  generous  woman. 

"  Have  I  Western  mortgages  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  how  many  just  at  present.  I 
do  know  your  cousin's  agents  have  piled  up  his 
money  for  him  out  there,  though.  They  have 
held  mortgages  at  high  interest,  and  then,  if 
harvests  fail,  you  have  a  neat  foreclosure,  and 
have  made  well  on  your  investment.  It  is  an  in 
iquitous  proceeding,  morally  considered,  but  to 
refuse  time  on  a  mortgage  is  no  crime  except  to 
a  man's  conscience.  Business  cynicism  is  likely 
to  rule  out  conscience.  But  you  can  understand 
why  I  advise  you  not  to  know  too  much  about 
your  tenements  and  mortgages."  Ho  went  on 


72  THE  PETE  IE  ESTATE. 

talking,  but  Charlotte  barely  heard  him.  "  The 
West  is  more  than  half  pathetic,  after  all.  Now 
and  then  there  is  a  boom,  but  I  have  happened 
to  see  it  on  the  off  years."  And  he  described 
the  premature  birth  and  death  of  a  Western 
town. 

"  And  I  have  been  to  church  confessing1  my 
sins,"  murmured  Charlotte. 

John  Hathaway  laughed  at  her  sins. 

"  My  '  sins,  negligences,  and  ignorances.'  And 
here  was  this  great  sin  upon  me  !  Oh,  don't 
you  understand  how  I  feel  ?  " 

Hathaway  said,  with  all  serioiisness,  "  Yes,  I 
understand,  because  I  know  the  kind  of  woman 
you  are.  Thank  Heaven  I  do  !  " 

"  I  sat  and  folded  my  hands,  and  asked  what 
I  should  do  next." 

"  Do  you  know  any  better  now  ?  You  ought 
to  talk  with  Waring.  He  's  full  of  these  sub 
jects.  The  time  is  out  of  joint,  and  his  paper 
was  born  to  set  it  right.  He  used  to  think  so, 
at  any  rate.  He  is  losing  courage,  but  he  is 
full  of  ideas.  I  am  too  busy  a  man  to  have 
ideas.  I  have  got  down  to  minding  my  own 
business.  That  seems  a  rather  low  level  to  a 
woman  like  you,  Charlotte,  I  dare  say.  I  am 
doing  no  particular  harm,  and  I  keep  my  family 
going.  You  would  get  a  great  deal  more  out  of 
Waring  than  out  of  me." 


"  WHAT  TO  DO?"  73 

The  talk  lasted  till  they  reached  Charlotte's 
door,  when  Hathaway  shook  hands  with  her 
earnestly,  and  turned  to  hail  the  next  street 
car. 

Aunt  Cornelia  and  her  niece  said  little  at 
dinner.  To  introduce  the  subject  that  filled 
Charlotte's  thoughts  would  be  only  to  alarm 
and  bewilder  her  aunt  with  additional  horrors 
of  New  York.  They  both  sat  with  books  after 
dinner  :  the  older  lady,  with  a  view  to  inducing 
her  Sunday  afternoon  nap ;  the  younger,  with 
the  vain  hope  of  turning  her  thoughts  into  a 
different  channel.  There  was  no  repose  for 
her  until  she  had  written  a  brief  note,  and  ad 
dressed  it  to  the  agent  of  the  Petrie  estate.  It 
requested  him  to  call  upon  her  immediately. 

The  next  morning  the  firm  of  E.  H.  Corliss 
&  Sons,  in  turning  over  the  morning  mail,  came 
upon  a  letter  from  their  new  client,  Miss  Cover- 
dale,  the  heir  of  the  Petrie  property,  which 
had  long  been  in  their  hands.  E.  H.  Corliss, 
Sr.,  was  a  sharp-featured  old  gentleman,  who 
sat  at  his  desk  all  day  and  attended  strictly  to 
business.  The  social  duties  of  the  office  he  left 
to  his  son,  with  mingled  respect  and  contempt. 
His  hard  mouth  would  take  a  humorous  twist 
as  he  heard  suave  promises  of  repairs  and  gen 
tle  smoothing  away  of  complaints.  "  It  takes 
Ed  to  talk  'em  round,"  the  old  man  would 


74  THE  PET  111  E  ESTATE. 

chuckle,  and  he  would  occasionally  pay  his  son 
the  compliment  of  tolling  him  that  he  was  not 
altogether  a  fool. 

The  younger  Corliss  was  a  pronounced  blonde 
of  forty,  with  hair  parted  in  the  middle,  and  with 
fair,  drooping  mustache.  His  diamond  scarf-pin 
and  ring  excited  the  derision  of  his  father,  who 
yet  suspected  that  they  might  have  their  value 
in  interviews  with  clients.  The  son's  favorite 
gesture  was  a  light  brushing  of  some  part  of  his 
dress  ;  his  attention  being  frequently  divided  be 
tween  his  tenant's  demands  and  a  thread  on  his 
coat-sleeve.  The  younger  Corliss  not  only  re 
ceived  visitors  at  the  office1,  but  was  detailed  to 
make  the  visits  of  the  firm  to  their  clients.  In 
such  duties  he  felt  that  he  distinguished  himself. 
He  was  knowing  in  social  matters,  and  flattered 
himself  that  he  was  at  ease  in  any  circle.  And 
indeed  lie  had  been  mistaken  for  a  gentleman 
in  several  strata  of  society.  "  Why  don't  he 
marry  a  rich  girl  ?  "  his  father  had  said  to  Mrs. 
Corliss,  and  Mrs.  Corliss  had  said  to  her  hus 
band  for  the  past  ten  years.  Now,  their  son  was 
a  man  of  imagination  as  well  as  of  undeniable 
business  faculty.  In  his  way  "  Ed  "  Corliss  was 
a  dreamer.  They  were  not  poetic  fancies  that 
haunted  him :  they  were  visions  of  "  control ''  of 
property,  of  rents  flowing  into  his  own  pockets, 
of  leases  in  his  own  right,  and  of  a  check-book 


u  WHAT  TO  DO?"  75 

powerful  as  Aladdin's  lamp.  The  day  that  it 
had  transpired  that  the  Petrie  estate,  long  under 
the  care  of  his  firm,  had  fallen  to  a  distant  rela 
tive,  an  unmarried  woman,  Corliss's  imagination 
had  caught  fire.  The  thought  that  inflamed  it 
was  no  less  bold  than  that  which  long  ago  fired 
one  Malvolio,  steward  to  the  fair  Olivia. 

When  Miss  Charlotte  Coverdale  requested  an 
interview  with  the  firm,  Corliss  joyfully  obeyed 
the  summons.  There  was  need  of  energy  and 
discretion,  and  need  also  of  his  best  manners 
and  appearance  ;  this  he  fully  realized.  He  with 
drew  to  an  inner  sanctum  of  towels  and  hair 
brushes,  and  emerging  after  some  time,  walked 
out  of  the  office  superior  to  the  smile  of  his  cyni 
cal  elder.  A  half  hour  later  he  was  shown  into 
Miss  Coverdale's  reception-room  at  the  right  of 
the  door,  her  favorite  morning  room.  He  se 
lected  unerringly  the  most  comfortable  chair  and 
fluno-  himself  back  in  it,  while  he  rolled  his  head 

O 

about  for  a  survey  of  the  room.  His  impres 
sions  were  not  to  be  analyzed,  but  they  may 
be  registered  somewhat  as  follows  :  a  desk,  with 
many  pigeon-holes  and  papers ;  some  half-fin 
ished  embroidery  trailing  over  a  chair,  —  a  hint 
of  feminine  softness ;  the  morning  paper,  two 
morning  papers,  tumbled  and  read,  —  depress 
ing  ;  a  paper-covered  novel  opened  face  down 
ward,  —  better.  These  impressions  produced  a 


70  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

blur  in  the  mind  of  Corliss,  and  he  was  in  no 
wise  prepared  for  Miss  Coverdale  when  she  en 
tered,  lie  sprang  to  his  feet  from  his  deep 
chair,  and  accomplished  his  greeting's  in  what  he 
recognized  as  his  most  off-hand,  felicitous  man 
ner.  Miss  Coverdale  Lade  him  be  seated.  He 
sank  again  into  the  low  easy-chair,  and  disposed 
himself  comfortably. 

"  And  how  do  you  like  New  York  ?  "  he  asked 
airily. 

Charlotte  seized  the  lead,  and  at  once  laid  be 
fore  him  the  subject  of  the  interview.  Corliss 
listened  with  professional  smile  and  with  inter 
jections  of  affable  assent.  u  Why,  certainly." 
"  Oh,  yes,  that 's  a  fact."  "  Of  course,  of 
course." 

"  And  now  what  can  I  do  ?  "  said  Charlotte, 
with  determination. 

"  What  can  you  do?  "  Corliss  settled  himself 
more  comfortably  in  his  chair. 

"  Insufferable  creature  !  "  thought  Charlotte, 
but  her  too  lovely  and  appealing  eyes  did  not 
change  their  expression.  Their  earnestness  fas 
tened  him  to  a  serious  answer. 

"  Really,  Miss  Coverdale,  there  is  nothing  to 
be  done.  You  can't  improve  those  people.  They 
never  will  live  any  other  way.  They  don't  want 
anything  better."  lie  picked  a  thread  from  the 
carpet,  and  twirled  it  between  his  fingers. 


"  WHAT  TO  DO?"  11 

"  But  if  these  houses  are  so  wretched,  why 
am  I  paid  such  rents  for  them  ?  " 

"  They  are  worth  it.  You  don't  regulate  the 
price.  It  regulates  itself.  It 's  according  to  the 
demand,  according  to  the  crowding.  You  'd 
hardly  believe  it,"  said  Corliss  gayly,  "  how  they 
pack  in." 

"  I  have  read  of  such  things,"  said  Charlotte 
earnestly.  "I  must  go  and  see  my  houses." 

"  Oh,  I  would  n't  advise  it.  Your  houses 
are  n't  so  bad  as  that.  You  would  n't  find  it 
pleasant,  though.  We  look  after  everything. 
The  owners  of  all  that  property  leave  it  alone. 
They  're  in  Europe,  a  good  many  of  them ; 
they  're  innocent  enough  about  what 's  going  on. 
Some  of  'em  live  out  West.  The  up-town  folks 
don't  cross  a  certain  line  east  and  west  here  in 
the  city  once  in  a  lifetime.  They  've  got  their 
agents  to  act  for  them.  We  act  for  you,"  he 
added  briskly. 

Charlotte  looked  at  him,  but  her  look  passed 
across  and  beyond  him. 

"  Could  I  go  there  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Seriously,  I  don't  advise  you  to,  Miss  Cover- 
dale.  We  will  do  anything  you  say,  but  a  lady, 
you  know,  down  there  —  Well,  you  'd  find  a 
great  many  bad  smells.  We  '11  send  you  up 
plans  of  the  buildings.  You  would  find  they  'd 
do  exactly  as  well." 


78  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

"No,"'  said  Charlotte  gently.  "I  must  go. 
You  will  send  some  one  from  your  office  to  guide 
me  ?  And  I  will  take  a  maid  with  me." 

"  Oh,  if  it  comes  to  that,  I  shall  be  only  too 
happy  to  escort  you  myself,"'  and  Corliss  Lowed 
with  what  gallantry  he  could,  from  his  low  chair. 
If  go  she  would,  he  bethought  him  that  it  were 
well  he  should  be  at  hand  to  correct  her  impres 
sions.  Moreover,  he  was  satisfied  that  he  had 
fathomed  Miss  Coverdale.  "  All  women  are 
alike,"  was  the  axiom  that  expressed  his  disre 
spect  for  the  sex.  lie  classified  Miss  Coverdale 
without  difficulty ;  a  restive,  uncomfortable 
woman,  opposed  to  taking  things  as  she  found 
them,  which  was  the  secret  of  his  own  philosophy. 
Some  further  acquaintance  with  the  world  would 
tame  her  ideals.  She  would  not  fly  so  high, 
after  a  little  contact  with  the  real  thing.  The 
virtues  of  such  a  woman  were  largely  a  matter 
of  sentiment,  more  or  less  morbid,  and  for  the 
rest,  a  matter  of  circumstances. 

Meanwhile,  Charlotte's  eyes  were  bent  upon 
him  with  beseeching  that  he  would  interest  him 
self  in  the  subject  heavy  upon  her  heart.  He 
saw  in  her  look  only  an  invitation  to  him  to  in 
terest  himself  in  her.  They  were  all  alike,  he 
reflected,  —  coquettes,  high  and  low.  One  would 
have  relished  his  interpretation  of  Miss  Cover- 
dale's  conduct  after  the  door  closed  upon  him. 


"WHAT  TO  DO?"  79 

She  walked  to  the  window,  and  threw  it  up  with 
force,  letting  escape  the  trail  of  perfumery  and 
tobacco  that  her  visitor  had  left  behind  him. 

Corliss  was  putting1  a  severe  strain  upon 
one  of  Charlotte's  principles  of  conduct.  She 
struggled,  if  she  had  an  end  in  view,  to  prevent 
personal  prejudice  from  blinding  or  hindering 
her.  She  needed  Corliss's  services  for  a  time, 
and  in  spite  of  his  manners  he  might  be  made 
to  answer  her  purpose. 

She  returned,  on  the  following  day,  after  a 
four  hours'  absence,  and  sat  pale  and  quiet 
through  the  evening,  holding  a  book  which  she 
did  not  read.  Mrs.  Bisbee  dropped  in,  and  at  a 
word  let  fall  by  Charlotte  she  took  a  text  and 
preached  a  vigorous  discourse  upon  socialism. 
She  combated  its  heresies  with  at  least  seven 
heads  and  an  application. 

Charlotte  was  silent.  She  had  received  that 
day  a  great  shock.  She  was  as  yet  too  be 
numbed  to  think  or  speak.  "  What  to  do  ? 
What  to  do?" 


CHAPTER   VII. 

A    RAINY    AFTERNOON. 

GRACE  freed  herself  from  mackintosh  and 
overshoes,  and  took  the  long'  pin  deliberately 
from  her  sailor  hat.  AVhen  Grace  came  to  see 
Charlotte,  she  made  preparations  for  staying  a 
long  time. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  want  me,  cousin  Char 
lotte.  Yon  are  busy,  I  know  yon  are,"  said 
Grace,  comfortably  settling  herself  to  her  visit. 
"  Yon  need  not  pay  any  attention  to  me.  Jnst 
let  me  sit  here." 

Charlotte  looked  at  her,  and  thought  Grace 
was  never  prettier  than  in  the  rain.  She  was 
one  of  the  enviable  people  whose  hair,  in  wet 
weather,  plays  in  little  rings  about  the  face,  and 
whose  color  grows  rich,  and  skin  velvety  under 
the  dampness.  "I  am  perfectly  drenched,"  was 
her  way  of  expressing  it.  "  Let  me  curl  down 
by  the  fire." 

Looking  into  the  fire  led  Grace  to  medita 
tion.  "  Yon  are  awfully  good  to  me,  cousin 
Charlotte.  Papa  says  that  between  yon  and 


A  RAINY  AFTEENOON.  81 

Mr.  Waring  he  has  hopes  of  me.  I  am  sure  I 
don't  know  what  he  hopes  !  " 

"  Great  things,  no  doubt,"  said  Charlotte,  but 
did  not  preach.  She  let  Grace  dream. 

"  Mr.  Waring  wonders  if  he  is  never  to  meet 
my  heroine.  lie  says  he  begins  to  think  she 
is  a  creature  of  my  imagination.  He  says  that 
I  have  imagination,"  she  added  with  sweet  so 
lemnity,  and  waited  for  Charlotte  to  agree. 

"  Does  he  mean  that  I  could  write  stories  ?  " 
pursued  Grace  under  her  breath. 

"  No,  I  think  not,"  replied  Charlotte  care 
fully.  "  The  best  use  of  imagination  is  for 
sympathy  ;  for  art,  after  that."  Charlotte  felt 
her  way  inquiringly.  "  Imagination  touched 
with  love,  —  that  is  sympathy  ;  and  that  itself 
makes  an  art,  the  art  of  living  with  others. 
Some  people  give  that  up,  and  devote  imagina 
tion  solely  to  what  they  call  the  Fine  Arts  ! " 
Charlotte  had  never  fluency  in  setting  forth  her 
thought,  but  Grace  followed  it  with  a  little  knot 
in  her  brow,  and  said  after  a  pause,  "  Then  I  am 
to  keep  my  imagination  for  everyday  use,  just 
to  make  myself  happy,  and  other  people.  Do 
you  think  that  is  what  he  means,  when  he  says 
I  have  imagination  ?  "  and  Grace  looked  up  to 
Charlotte  with  a  face  so  youthful  in  its  helpless 
candor  and  so  radiant  with  an  inner  light  that 
Charlotte  could  only  bend  and  kiss  her  in  reply. 


82  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

Grace  turned  quickly  away,  and  laughed  not 
quite  naturally.  "  The  funniest  thing  hap 
pened,"  she  said.  "  Papa  and  Mr.  Waring 
have  had  a  quarrel.  You  know  Tuesday  was 
election  day,  and  he  and  papa  have  talked  no 
end  about  municipal  reform.  Oh,  I  know  what 
municipal  reform  is ;  I  have  listened.  This 
was  a  very  important  election,  and  what  do 
you  think  papa  did  ?  He  took  Ned  and  Patty 
out  into  the  country  for  a  holiday,  and  did  n't 
vote  at  all.  And  that  night  Mr.  Waring  came 
in  to  talk  over  the  election,  and  when  he  found 
papa  had  n't  voted,  —  well,  you  can  imagine  ! 
I  simply  can't  describe  it.  I  never  saw  him  so 
angry  in  my  life.  It  was  n't  funny  a  bit  for  a 
few  minutes." 

Charlotte  began  to  suspect  that  she,  too,  had 
an  imagination,  for  she  discovered  that  anec 
dotes  of  Waring  were  suggestive.  She  was  a 
trifle  vexed  to  find  herself  falling  into  reveries 
about  a  man  whom  she  had  never  seen.  One 
moment  Waring  appeared  the  chaffing  elder 
brother ;  the  next  moment  she  concluded  that 
he  had  a  schoolmasterly  interest  in  the  young 
girl's  mind.  Just  as  her  school-days  were  ended, 
Grace's  intellect  was  beginning  to  feel  itself. 
Plainly  it  owed  not  a  little  of  its  awakening 
to  the  stimulus  of  this  devoted  family  friend. 
Again,  it  appeared  to  Charlotte  that  Waring 


A  RAINY  AFTERNOON.  83 

was  indulging  himself  in  the  most  selfish  of  all 
pleasures,  in  watching  the  unfolding  of  a  young 
girl's  heart  as  well  as  of  her  mind.  By  what 
law  of  nature  did  it  come  to  pass  that  Charlotte 
would  rather  have  held  any  one  of  these  views 
than  have  believed  Waring  in  love  with  Grace  ? 
Still  the  confiding  monologue  flowed  on.  Grace 
dwelt  upon  insignificant  words  of  Waring' s,  re 
peating  them  with  loving  reverence. 

"  He  says  that  my  mind  needs  discipline. 
What  can  he  find  so  interesting  about  my 
mind  ?  "  said  the  child,  with  lamentable  lack  of 
candor. 

"  What  do  /find  so  interesting  in  it  ?  "  asked 
Charlotte  in  a  tone  intended  to  reduce  senti 
ment. 

"  He  thinks  I  am  idle." 

"  Admirable  ! " 

"  But  I  am  always  doing  something,"  Grace 
pleaded.  "  Mr.  Waring  is  hard  to  please,"  she 
sighed  ;  in  the  affluence  of  her  love  she  could 
afford  to  find  fault  with  him.  "  You  ought  to 
hear  his  opinion  of  the  school  I  went  to.  He 
wrote  an  editorial  about  girls'  schools  in  New 
York.  And  yet  he  does  n't  believe  in  these  new 
ideas  about  education.  lie  says  they  have  n't 
turned  out  the  right  kind  of  woman  yet.  I 
should  like  to  have  him  see  you  !  "  she  said  glow 
ingly. 


84  THE  PET  ME  ESTATE. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  of  you,  Grace  !  " 

"  lie  's  dying  to  meet  you ; "  which  was  Grace's 
paraphrase  of  Waring's  somewhat  indifferent 
"  Am  I  ever  to  be  permitted  to  meet  Miss  Cov- 
erdale  ?  "  He  had,  in  fact,  rejoiced  that  he  was 
evidently  not  often  to  encounter  a  person  who 
was  so  uncomfortably  associated  with  his  own 
fortunes,  and  who,  a  priori,  was  not  likely  to  be 
of  much  intrinsic  interest. 

"  I  often  tell  him  things  you  say,"  continued 
Grace,  fixing  upon  Charlotte  the  soft  gaze  of 
adoring  girlhood.  Grace's  paraphrase  of  Char 
lotte,  however,  was  less  successful  than  her  ren 
dering  of  Waring.  It  conveyed  none  of  Char 
lotte's  personality,  and  failed  utterly  to  touch 
his  imagination.  One  woman  can  rarely  be 
trusted  to  report  the  charm  of  another. 

Grace  had  heard  discussed  the  history  of  the 
Petrie  estate,  and  Waring's  share  in  the  story 
had  served  to  heighten  her  romantic  interest  in 
him.  She  hoped  that  the  will  would  never  be 
found.  Waring  in  his  present  position  gratified 
her  imagination  far  more  than  Waring  a  com 
monplace  owner  of  stocks  and  bonds.  There 
were  tangled  strands  of  feeling  in  her  mind  as 
she  whispered  to  herself  that  the  peculiar  rela 
tion  between  Waring  and  Charlotte  must  always 
keep  a  distance  between  them.  Grace  was  as 
yet  not  profound  in  the  laws  of  romance ;  she 
had  not  mastered  the  law  of  barriers. 


A  RAINY  AFTERNOON.  85 

Mrs.  Hathaway  had  looked  keenly  at  her  hus 
band  when  the  Petrie  will  had  been  mentioned. 
"  If  that  will  had  been  found,"  she  said  impres 
sively,  "  Grace  should  have  married  Richard 
Waring.  I  should  have  brought  it  about." 

"  What  if  they  find  it  yet  ?  " 

Mrs.  Hathaway  was  herself  quite  inclined  to 
believe  this  possible,  but  it  was  the  habit  of 
years  to  answer  her  husband  with  petty  contra 
diction,  uttered  with  perfect  good-nature.  She 
and  her  husband  seldom  quarreled,  but  they  also 
seldom  agreed. 

"  I  often  tell  him  things  you  say,"  Grace 
murmured  now.  She  was  half  kneeling  by 
Charlotte's  side,  leaning  one  arm  upon  her  lap, 
and  looking  up  to  her  with  open  love  and  ad 
miration.  Yet  it  was  not  the  thought  of  Char 
lotte  that  made  the  girl's  face  beautiful.  Grace 
had  been  an  attractive  child,  a  pretty  girl,  and 
now  for  the  first  time  gave  promise  of  being  a 
beautiful  woman.  In  her  face,  which  had  been 
a  lovely  blank,  unwritten  by  experience,  un- 
traversed  by  emotion,  the  miracle  of  transfigura 
tion  had  taken  place.  It  had  subdued  features 
to  expression,  heightened  color,  given  new  char 
acter  to  the  smile,  at  once  new  suggestion  and 
new  mystery  to  the  eyes.  The  youth  of  Grace 
gave  her  face  heavenly  transparency ;  worldly 
experience  had  drawn  no  curtain.  Charlotte 


86  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

looked  into  her  eyes  with  unconscious  reflection 
of  their  radiance  ;  but  by  degrees  a  grave  won 
der  dimmed  her  face  again.  Was  Grace  de 
ceiving  herself  ?  Was  this  a  love  with  110  root 
in  reality,  flourishing  like  a  beautiful  orchid, 
the  most  imaginative  product  of  nature,  and 
nourished,  like  it,  upon  tropical  air?  She  en 
couraged  Grace  to  talk  to  her,  for  she  still 
watched  for  a  clew.  The  girl's  recollection  of 
details  moved  Charlotte  to  wonder  at  the  super 
natural  memory  of  lovers.  She  did  not  know 
how  many  times  every  conversation  with  War 
ing  was  repeated  in  Grace's  imagination ;  how 
she  planned  things  to  say  to  him,  and  not  only 
dramatized  future  conversations,  but  went  over 
past  meetings  and  even  filled  out  what  might 
have  been  said.  Not  to  her  own  heart  did 
Grace  confess  the  truth,  that  the  reality  of  a 
conversation  with  Waring  fell  below  her  dreams. 
After  she  had  seen  him,  it  took  her  a  little  time 
to  work  up  an  interview  into  something  roman 
tic.  Words  of  no  particular  wit  or  wisdom  she 
passed  through  the  alembic  of  her  heart,  and 
Converted  into  oracles. 

Charlotte  still  looked  anxiously  at  Grace. 
She  perversely  remembered  a  grotesque  word 
that  she  had  heard  applied  in  similar  circum 
stances  :  normalkrankheitsverlaitf.  She  also  be 
thought  her  of  the  unfeeling  wisdom  of  Dr. 


A  EAINY  AFTERNOON.  87 

Johnson :  "  Many  fancied  that  they  were  in 
love,  when  in  truth  they  were  only  idle."  She 
suddenly  changed  the  subject,  or  supposed  that 
she  had  changed  it. 

"  Grace,  are  you  studying  anything  now 
adays  ?  " 

"  I  have  French  lessons,  and  mamma  wants 
me  to  give  a  great  deal  of  time  to  my  music." 

"  How  would  you  like  to  study  something 
with  me?" 

"  What  fun  !  History,  or  Literature !  I 
love  Literature.  I  had  Universal  Literature  at 
school,  you  know.  I  graduated  last  June." 

"  Or  Latin  ?  " 

"  I  studied  Latin  a  year,"  with  a  droop  of  the 
voice. 

"  What  did  you  say  about  mental  disci 
pline  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that  is  what  Mr.  Waring  says  I  need,  — 
mental  discipline.  Yes,  I  would  rather  study 
Latin  than  anything  else." 

So  Charlotte  made  use  of  the  lever  that  moves 
the  world,  and  planned  the  Latin  lessons.  She 
then  led  Grace  away  to  her  own  affairs  and  told 
her  that  she  was  going  to  Mrs.  Appleby's  that 
evening. 

Grace  sighed.  "  Mrs.  Appleby  is  a  very  de 
sirable  person  to  know,"  she  said  with  serious 
ness.  "  She  knows  everybody  and  she  can  go 


88  THE  PETE  IE  ESTATE. 

anywhere.  You  are  fortunate,  cousin  Char 
lotte." 

Charlotte  smiled  at  Grace's  worldly  lore,  and 
sat  with  amused  interest  under  her  instruction. 

"  She  was  an  Esterbrook,"  said  Grace  impres 
sively.  "  But  of  course  you  know." 

"•  Mrs.  Appleby  was  an  old  school  friend  of 
my  mother's.  I  have  visited  her  often  in  my 
vacations."  Charlotte  had  never  before  had  an 
outside  view  of  Mrs.  Appleby.  Her  sojourns 
had  been  intimate  family  visits  at  her  old 
friend's  summer  home.  Grace  was  able  to  state 
with  accuracy  Mrs.  Appleby's  place  in  New 
York  society. 

"  There  is  a  great  deal  of  money  in  the  fam 
ily,  in  all  branches  of  it.  There  are  no  end 
of  connections,  —  all  rich."  Grace  paused  for 
emphasis.  "  Think  what  it  must  be  to  have  no 
poor  relations.  But  that  shows  you  what  sort 
of  family  she  belongs  to,  does  n't  it  ?  " 

Charlotte  nodded,  smiling,  and  listened  for 
more  of  Grace's  capable  characterization. 

"  Mrs.  Appleby  is  very  independent.  She 
does  n't  mind  knowing  everybody,  in  Europe  or 
America.  She  can  afford  to.  Mr.  Waring  says 
she  belongs  to  the  great  world.  "We  belong  to 
the  little  world,  —  our  family.''  Charlotte  mar 
veled  at  her  social  insight. 

"  I  have  heard  people  say  that  Mrs.  Appleby 


A  EAINY  AFTERNOON.  89 

was  too  kind-hearted,  —  not  exclusive  enough. 
But  there  's  no  need  of  her  being  exclusive, 
don't  you  see  ?  It 's  we  that  have  to  be  exclu 
sive.  Oh,  we  are  not  fashionable,  cousin  Char 
lotte  :  only  longing  to  be.  Mamma  says  it  all 
depends  on  the  way  I  marry.  When  she  gets 
discouraged,  she  says  it  will  take  another  gen 
eration.  I  would  rather  leave  it  to  Ned  and 
Patty,  then."  Grace  leaned  her  cheek  upon 
her  hand,  and  dreamed  again. 

"  Tell  me  more  about  Mrs.  Appleby,"  said 
Charlotte. 

"  For  one  thing  she  entertains  all  the  dis 
tinguished  foreigners.  That  is  the  thing  that 
makes  you  in  New  York.  I  don't  think  we 
ever  had  an  Englishman  in  our  house,"  said 
Grace  with  naivete.  "  Another  thing,  Mrs. 
Appleby  is  a  great  patroness  of  every  sort  of 
philanthropic  and  literary  thing.  You  are  for 
ever  seeing  her  name.  She  is  always  having 
lectures  in  her  parlors,  and  she  is  always  giving 
receptions  to  authors  and  such  people.  Oh, 
how  I  should  love  to  go  there  !  " 

"You  shall." 

"  It  would  be  very  complicated." 

"  Not  at  all." 

"  Ah,  cousin  Charlotte,  you  don't  know." 

"  I  know  Mrs.  Appleby." 

"  Mr.  Waring  goes  a  great  deal  to  Mrs.  Ap- 


90  THE  PETIUE  ESTATE. 

pleby's.  But  he  would  never  think  of  it ;  it 
never  would  enter  his  head  to  introduce  our 
family  to  the  Applebys.  Of  course,  you  are 
more  thoughtful."  There  had  been  times  when 
Grace  had  not  found  Waring  "  thoughtful." 
There  was  so  much  in  this  speech  of  hers  that 
she  herself  fell  to  thinking  about  it. 

"  How  it  rains  still !  "  she  said  suddenly.  "  I 
should  never  have  talked  to  you  so  this  after 
noon,  you  dear,  if  it  had  n't  been  for  the  rain 
and  the  open  fire.  I  don't  know  why  I  have 
talked  so.  Is  aunt  Cornelia  in  her  room  ?  I 
am  going  to  make  her  a  visit,  too.  She  is  such 
a  dear." 

A  dialogue  between  aunt  Cornelia  and  her 
favorite  Grace  was  one  of  the  prettiest  conver 
sations  imaginable.  But  on  this  particular  after 
noon,  the  subjects  they  talked  about  were  all 
remote  from  our  story.  Grace  Hathaway  was  a 
new  element  in  aunt  Cornelia's  life,  that  helped 
to  reconcile  her  to  New  York.  She  was  not 
fond  of  her  niece,  Mrs.  Hathaway,  though  she 
never  offered  criticism  beyond  saying  gently  to 
Charlotte,  "  Her  ways  are  not  our  ways."  Oc 
casionally,  after  a  visit  to  Mrs.  Hathaway's 
house,  she  went  so  far  as  to  call  her  k>  a  person 
of  poor  judgment."  Sue  was  no  more  cordial 
in  her  regard  for  her  aunt.  uOh,  dear!  there 
is  aunt  Cornelia.  I  know  I  ouulit  to  i»x>  to  see 


A  RAINY  AFTERNOON.  91 

her.  But  what  time  do  I  have,  I  should  like  to 
have  you  tell  me."  Mrs.  Hathaway's  panto 
mime  of  the  overburdened  New  York  woman 
was  admirable.  It  was  perfectly  true  that  she 
had  far  too  much  to  do,  and  was  a  tired  woman 
a  good  part  of  the  time.  "  Then  aunt  Cornelia 
has  such  an  effect  upon  me.  She  is  very  sweet, 
and  she  never  says  anything,  but  she  always 
makes  me  feel  as-  if  I  were  a  little  girl  still. 
Yet  I  leave  it  to  you  if  I  was  ever  the  girl  to 
be  put  down  by  her  aunts."  Charlotte  laughed, 
and  Sue  finished  with,  "  Oh,  you  are  her  favor 
ite  ;  anybody  can  see  that.  And  now  she  seems 
to  be  taking  to  Grace,  too."  Five  minutes  later 
Mrs.  Hathaway's  thoughts  came  to  the  surface 
again.  "  Aunt  Cornelia  owns  her  house,  but  I 
suppose  she  has  only  a  very  small  property  be 
sides." 

Oddly  enough,  the  same  thought  was  working 
in  aunt  Cornelia's  mind  after  Grace  Hathaway 
left  her  that  rainy  afternoon. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 
AT  MRS.  APPLEBY'S. 

MRS.  APPLEBY'S  parlors  were  beginning  to 
hum  with  the  industry  of  conversation.  Most 
of  her  guests  were  practiced  talkers,  who  took 
up  the  business  of  the  evening  with  alacrity  and 
good-will.  Some  were  old  friends,  who  snatched 
eagerly  at  each  other,  and,  if  not  circumvented 
by  Mrs.  Appleby,  spent  the  evening  together 
upon  a  sheltered  sofa.  Many  guests  were  ac 
quaintances,  who  met  impersonally  and  super 
ficially,  perhaps ;  but  in  any  case,  wits  were 
quickened  and  hearts  were  warmed  by  an  even 
ing  at  Mrs.  Appleby's.  That  keen-witted  and 
warm-hearted  lady  entertained  with  great  catho 
licity,  and  a  third  class  of  guests  were  always 
strangers.  She  was  an  able  and  zealous  hostess. 
Her  highest  delight  was  to  develop  the  possibil 
ities  of  pleasure  that  lie  in  human  intercourse. 
"  "While  we  are  It  ere"  she  would  say  cheerfully, 
"  let  us  get  as  much  out  of  it  as  we  can."  "  While 
we  are  here,"  a  phrase  often  on  Mrs.  Appleby's 
lips,  expressed  admirably  her  relation  to  this 


AT  MRS.  APPLES  Y^S.  93 

world  and  the  next.  Mrs.  Appleby  never  went 
slumming1,  but  there  was  not  a  better  lover  of 
her  kind  in  New  York.  She  specialized  her 
philanthropy,  and  did  only  that  for  which  she 
had  a  gift.  As  she  stood  to  receive  her  guests, 
her  hearty,  hospitable  presence,  her  energetic 
welcome,  her  warm,  magnetic  hand-grasp,  com 
municated  an  enthusiasm  for  social  intercourse 
that  penetrated  her  dullest  guest. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  Mrs.  Appleby  galvanize  a 
bore  ?  "  said  Richard  Waring  to  his  neighbor. 
"  Bores  she  keeps  a  sharp  eye  on,  for  bores 
propagate.  One  bore  makes  another  in  no  time. 
It 's  a  blight  on  a  company  that  only  Mrs.  Ap 
pleby  can  cope  with.  She  will  make  him  out 
with  the  best  he  has  in  him.  And  how  he  will 
enjoy  himself  !  See  a  bore  go  off  hugging  him 
self  after  he  has  told  his  one  good  story,  and 
you  appreciate  Mrs.  Appleby." 

When  the  credentials  of  strangers  had  been 
once  examined,  Mrs.  Appleby  strove  to  make 
them  acquaintances,  and  when  she  saw  acquaint 
ances  ripen  into  friends,  her  happiness  was  great. 
She  was  besieged  by  social  schemers ;  and  in  a 
few  cases  her  kindness  of  heart  got  the  better 
of  her  judgment ;  but  her  good  offices  were  not 
for  the  vulgar,  and  they  did  not  cling  long  to 
her  skirts. 

The  rooms  in  which  Mrs.  Appleby  received 


94  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

her  guests  had  a  peculiarly  American  character ; 
that  is,  there  was  scarcely  an  American  object 
in  them.  In  New  York,  the  products  of  the 
world  assemble,  and  the  far  East  and  the  far 
West  met  to  adorn  Mrs.  Appleby's  house.  The 
traveled  American  has  "  picked  up  "  his  pos 
sessions  in  every  quarter  of  the  globe,  and  comes 
home  bearing  his  treasure-trove  through  the 
custom-house,  in  uneasy  enjoyment  of  it  until 
he  has  set  it  along  his  walls,  beyond  injury  from 
breakage  or  tariff.  Mrs.  Appleby's  parlors  were 
hushed  in  sound  and  rich  in  color  with  rugs  and 
hangings  from  the  Orient.  Her  tables  and 
chairs  were  from  old  England  or  old  Italy ; 
casts  and  photographs,  carvings  and  bronzes, 
were  from  all  the  world  round.  Every  article 
had  its  history.  Mrs.  Appleby  was  an  adven 
turous  traveler ;  and  she  delighted  to  relate  the 
.exploits  by  which  her  booty  was  won. 

"  Have  you  ever  set  Mrs.  Appleby  off  on  a 
'  voyage  autour  de  ma  chambre  '  ?  "  asked  one 
guest  of  another.  "  She  could  entertain  you  for 
a  thousand  and  one  nights." 

Among  Mrs.  Appleby's  friends  this  evening, 
the  one  of  whom  she  had  a  special  care  was 
Charlotte  Coverdale,  the  daughter  of  Mary  Cov- 
erdale,  long  since  dead.  Mrs.  Appleby  was 
gratified  by  Charlotte's  appearance  as  she  en 
tered  the  room.  She  was  not  only  beautiful, 


AT  MES.  APPLEBY'S.  95 

and  beautifully  dressed,  but  she  had  the  look 
and  bearing  which  her  hostess  demanded.  That 
people  should  look  happy,  Mrs.  Appleby  ex 
acted  as  their  contribution  to  society.  She  even 
declared  that  by  persistently  looking  happy,  one 
could  go  far  to  attain  a  sunny  temper.  "  Study 
it  before  your  mirror,  my  dear,"  she  would  say 
to  a  young  girl.  "  It  is  the  way  to  beauty." 
Charlotte  pleased  her  old  friend  by  looking 
charmingly  happy.  Outwardly  lovely  and  se 
rene,  she  was  nevertheless  advancing  with  a  flut 
tering  heart.  Mrs.  Appleby  thought  rapidly, 
"  Ah,  good  blood  tells  in  entering  a  room."  It 
was  indeed  good  blood,  and  not  experience,  that 
sustained  Charlotte  in  this  ordeal.  She  dreaded 
and  longed  for  the  world ;  accepted  an  invita 
tion  joyously,  and  tremblingly  abided  the  conse 
quences.  Whatever  tranquillity  of  soul  was 
to  be  obtained  from  perfect  dress,  that  she  had 
secured  for  herself.  Of  all  her  recent  acquaint 
ances  she  had  found  none  to  pique  her  interest 
more  than  her  little  Irish  dressmaker.  Nor  had 
Charlotte  herself  ever  been  more  quickly  and 
completely  comprehended.  Her  character  had 
been  seized  and  interpreted  with  rare  artistic 
sense.  A  curious  sympathy  set  itself  up  be 
tween  the  two  women.  They  were  suggestive 
and  stimulating  to  each  other  as  they  discussed 
the  art  of  dress. 


96  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

Before  the  departure  of  Charlotte  for  Mrs. 
Appleby's  reception,  Mrs.  Bisbee  and  aunt  Cor 
nelia  had  passed  judgment  upon  her. 

"  But  we  must  not  make  her  vain,"  said  aunt 
Cornelia  softly. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Mrs.  Bisbee,  "  a  little 
vanity  won't  hurt  her.  A  little  vanity  is  good 
for  the  complexion.  There,  upon  my  word,  see 
the  color  in  her  face.  '  Handsome  is  that  hand 
some  does,'  was  the  hard  maxim  I  was  brought 
up  on,  and  you  see  the  consequences."  Mrs. 
Bisbee  sat  erect  and  tried  to  give  her  dress  a 
shape.  "  It 's  a  pretty  gown,  dear.  It  has  a 
character  :  angelic,  but  not  too  angelic ;  piquant, 
but  not  too  piquant.  How  did  she  contrive  to 
get  the  two,  —  your  Irishwoman  ?  " 

A  light  glance  and  murmur  followed  Char 
lotte's  appearance  before  Mrs.  Appleby.  In 
two  or  three  groups  the  conversation  took  a 
new  turn  :  "  the  Miss  Coverdale  you  have  heard 
of  ;  "  "  the  Petrie  estate,  you  know ;  "  "  a  pretty, 
old-fashioned  story  in  these  dull  days." 

At  some  distance  from  the  hostess  there  sat 
on  a  low  sofa,  with  an  attentive  listener  beside 
her,  one  of  the  notable  women  of  New  York. 
She  was  a  gossip  of  a  high  order  ;  so  successful 
a  gossip,  in  fact,  that  her  admirers  were  wont 
to  regret  in  her  the  waste  of  a  novelist.  Mrs. 
Cricklewood  had  never  committed  herself  to 


AT  MRS.  APPLEBY'S.  97 

print,  but  enjoyed  at  her  ease  a  literary  reputa 
tion  purely  oral.  Other  people  grew  old  and 
died  ;  but  not  Mrs.  Cricklewood.  Yet  no  guest 
of  the  present  evening  could  remember  her  save 
with  the  imposing  white  hair  a  la  Pompadour, 
and  the  well-preserved  black  velvet  gown,  both 
of  which  helped  her  not  a  little  to  carry  out  her 
part.  Waring  was  one  of  Mrs.  Cricklewood's 
favorite  listeners.  She  claimed  him  wherever 
they  met,  and  talked  long  and  low  to  him.  She 
was  now  relating  to  him  with  picturesque  and 
sentimental  touches  the  history  of  Miss  Cover- 
dale,  who  had  just  entered  the  room.  Waring 
listened,  much  diverted,  to  her  lively  version  of 
a  well-known  tale.  She  dropped  her  narrative 
at  a  telling  point,  and  nodded,  "  To  be  con 
tinued."  "  In  fact,"  she  added,  "  there  is  no 
serial  of  the  season  that  I  am  more  interested  in 
following."  She  stared  at  Charlotte  through 
her  lorgnette  ;  but  Mrs.  Cricklewood  was  pre 
pared  to  defend  an  honest  stare.  "  The  human 
interest,  —  no  more,"  she  maintained.  "  How 
does  she  strike  you  ?  "  she  said  to  Waring. 

He  looked  across  the  room,  intrenched  in  pre 
judices.  "  Give  me  time,"  he  begged. 

"  She  looks  too  happy,  too  prosperous ;  — 
that 's  it,  is  n't  it  ?  A  man  should  not  look  pros 
perous  —  it 's  very  objectionable  ;  but  in  a  wo 
man,  not  to  be  tolerated.  What  is  it  that  clever 


98  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

fellow  says,  —  a  woman,  to  be  interesting,  must 
have  had  a  grief,  but  never  a  grievance.  That 
blooming  creature  has  neither  griefs  nor  griev 
ances,  depend  upon  it.  I  should  like  to  see  her 
serenity  disturbed."  It  was  one  of  Mrs.  Crickle- 
wood's  tricks  in  conversation  to  repeat  what  she 
had  said,  petting  her  phrases,  and  taking  care 
that  her  listener  should  remember  them.  "  Nei 
ther  griefs  nor  grievances,"  she  concluded  once 
more.  "  Ah,  Mrs.  Appleby  is  introducing  our 
English  lion  to  Miss  Coverdale." 

Charlotte  liked  Mr.  Wotton  without  delay; 
she  went  farther,  and  hoped  that  he  liked  her. 
Some  one  who  had  observed  Charlotte  Coverdale 
had  remarked  that  she  was  not  a  brilliant  talker, 
but  that  there  was  always  good  talk  where  she 
was.  This  observer  fell  a-thinking  of  her  im 
age  as  he  had  last  seen  her.  There  was  in  his 
memory  the  impression  of  a  fine  forward  pose, 
of  eyes  quickly  humorous  or  quickly  tender,  of 
listening  lips,  sensitive  and  responsive.  He  re 
membered  the  play  of  feeling  across  them  as  a 
touch  of  eloquence  lighted  the  story,  and  he  re 
called  the  soft  sigh  with  which  her  pose  relaxed, 
and  thoughtfulness  settled  upon  her  face  as  the 
little  tale  ended.  It  occurred  to  him  that  here 
was  a  woman  with  finer  means  of  expression  than 
mere  speech.  This  man  was  not  her  lover,  only 
her  disinterested  observer :  circumstances  had 


AT  MRS.  APPLEBY'S.  99 

long  ago  determined  that.  Yet  chance  acquaint 
ance  that  he  was,  he  had  found  her  out.  So  did 
the  Englishman,  though  without  analysis.  He 
modestly  and  quite  wrongly  gave  her  credit  for 
whatever  was  valuable  in  the  conversation,  and 
bore  about  with  him  henceforth  a  conviction  of 
the  intelligence  of  American  women  which  was 
somehow  inextricably  confused  with  the  beauty 
of  their  eyes.  Mrs.  Appleby  by  and  by  spirited 
away  the  English  gentleman,  and  left  Charlotte 
face  to  face  with  an  American  legislator  from 
the  West.  This  was  one  of  Mrs.  Appleby's  lit 
tle  effects  in  the  shifting  of  her  guests.  Never 
was  mathematician  more  absorbed  in  "  permuta 
tions  and  combinations  "  than  was  this  hostess. 

The  Western  gentleman  fixed  a  shrewd  look 
upon  Charlotte. 

"  Well,  what  did  you  make  of  him?  "  he  asked 
with  simplicity  and  directness  quite  equal  to  the 
Englishman's.  "  His  notions,  now,  about  free 
trade.  I  Ve  had  some  talk  with  him.  But  these 
English  are  getting  their  eyes  opened.  They 
are  coming  over  here  more  and  more :  they  're 
seeing  for  themselves.  After  all,  blood  's  stron 
ger  than  water.  They  've  a  kind  of  sneaking 
fondness  for  us.  They  can't  help  seeing  we 
are  a  chip  of  the  old  block.  I  was  over  there 
this  summer,  and  I  was  treated  like  a  prince. 
They  like  to  hear  an  American  talk.  They  have 


100  THE  PET II IE  ESTATE. 

a  great  notion  of  American  humor.  Now  I 
sometimes  make  a  poor  sort  of  a  joke  myself, 
and  over  there  they  'd  take  it  up  and  pass  it 
round,  and  keep  '  that  American  story,  y'  know,' 
afloat  a  month.  They  say  we  are  all  humor 
ists.  They  say  even  our  women  are  humorists." 
Mr.  Martin  Lowed  half  facetiously,  half  chival 
rously. 

"•  At  least  we  can  laugh  at  ourselves,"  said 
Charlotte. 

"  Ah,  there,  that 's  it ;  there  you  Ve  hit  it. 
That 's  our  strong  point.  Our  sense  of  humor 
is  going  to  civilize  us.  What 's  humor,  after 
all,  but  critical  insight  and  all  that  sort  of  thing  ? 
What  is  it  but  seeing  the  truth  ?  We  are  on 
the  right  track  as  long  as  we  can  keep  up  such 
a  mighty  laughing  at  ourselves  as  you  '11  find 
in  our  newspapers  from  San  Francisco  to  Bos 
ton.  Now  what 's  your  opinion  ?  I  'd  like  to 
hear." 

Mr.  Martin  threw  himself  back,  prepared  to 
listen,  being  by  conviction  and  by  sentiment  a 
firm  believer  that  women  should  be  "  heard." 
The  truth  was  that  Charlotte  could  not  have 
found  in  the  pages  of  romance  a  more  knightly 
regard  for  her  sex  than  in  this  crude-spoken 
American  of  the  age  of  prose.  She  was  sorry 
when  music  interrupted  them,  and  when  a  long 
recitation  followed.  A  young  lady  stepped  for- 


AT  MRS.  APPLEBY' S.  101 

ward,  while  the  company  fell  back  to  the  edges  of 
the  room.  She  was  attired  with  obtrusive  sim 
plicity,  and  in  her  hand  she  carried  a  single  rose. 
She  stood  still,  with  downcast  eyes,  till  the  hush 
wras  complete.  Then  she  spoke  :  "  I  will  say 
'  Childe  Roland  to  the  dark  tower  came.'  ' 

Mrs.  Appleby  drew  near  the  door  and  suf 
fered  acutely  while  the  recitation  lasted.  She 
felt  victimized  as  she  reviewed  the  facts  in  the 
case.  Miss  Devine  had  appeared  with  a  letter 
of  introduction  from  an  amiable  woman,  well- 
known  in  society ;  a  person  with  whom  Mrs. 
Appleby  was  not  intimate,  but  with  whom  she 
was  in  the  habit  of  exchanging  small  favors  and 
obligations.  This  lady  begged  to  introduce 
Miss  Devine,  a  young  lady  of  great  talent.  If 
Mrs.  Appleby  would  allow  her  to  recite  at  one 
of  her  receptions,  it  would  be  of  the  greatest 
benefit  to  Miss  Devine  at  this,  the  beginning  of 
her  New  York  season.  Mrs.  Appleby  estimated 
the  young  lady  pretty  accurately  at  the  end  of 
five  minutes,  but  she  had  not  always  the  heart  to 
act  upon  her  convictions.  She  held  the  letter 
in  her  hand,  and  reflected  that  its  writer  was  on 
an  important  committee  with  herself,  that  they 
were  constantly  meeting,  that,  in  short,  it  was 
impossible  to  offend  her.  With  misgivings  she 
consented  that  Miss  Devine  should  recite  for  her 
guests,  and  her  concern  increased  when  she 


102  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

learned  that  "  Browning "  was  Miss  Devine's 
specialty,  —  "  Browning  and  Delsarte." 

The  result  justified  Mrs.  Appleby's  fears.  A 
hundred  people  were  held  in  discomfort  for 
fifteen  minutes.  Old  gentlemen  twitched  about 
and  looked  at  the  ceiling ;  old  ladies  tapped 
their  fans  and  looked  down  upon  their  laps ;  the 
young  people  watched  and  listened  and  tested 
their  good  manners.  The  face  of  Charlotte's 
companion  was  inscrutable  ;  while  she  withdrew 
into  herself  and  thought  comfortably  about  some 
thing  else.  The  performance  having  ended,  the 
gentlemen  applauded  extravagantly,  and  the 
ladies  turned  to  one  another  with  non-committal 
smiles. 

Conversation  did  not  at  once  spring  back  with 
its  former  elasticity,  and  there  was  presently  a 
movement  towards  the  supper-room,  whence  the 
smell  of  revelry  proceeded,  —  a  mingled  aroma 
of  coffee  and  roses.  Mrs.  Appleby  took  care 
that  Charlotte  should  meet  an  author  or  two, 
and  presented  to  her  first  a  well-known  writer  of 
fiction,  a  prophet  of  joylessness  ;  and  then  an 
other,  a  story-writer  who  has  added  to  the  sum 
of  human  happiness.  On  the  return  from  sup 
per  Charlotte  found  herself  again  near  her  host 
ess,  who  put  out  her  right  hand  to  detain  her, 
while  finishing  a  sentence  on  the  left.  Mrs. 
Appleby  held  her  in  this  familiar,  motherly 


AT  MRS.  APPLES  Y'S.  103 

fashion  for  several  minutes,  while  Charlotte 
stood  with  a  little  droop  of  the  head,  waiting  in 
girlish  dependence  the  will  of  her  elder  friend. 

"  Tell  me,  child,"  said  Mrs.  Appleby  heartily, 
"  are  you  happy  ?  Are  you  having  a  good 
time  ?  Are  you,  indeed  ?  " 

"  I  could  not  be  having  a  better,"  said  Char 
lotte,  throwing  her  head  back,  and  smiling  her 
happiest  at  Mrs.  Appleby. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  could,  for  I  am  going  to  intro 
duce  you  to  Mrs.  Cricklewood.  She  has  been 
talking  an  unconscionable  time  with  one  person. 
There,  she  has  him  at  her  side  again.  Really,  I 
must  break  this  up.  She  is  an  old  woman  like 
myself  ;  I  will  take  you  to  her.  It  does  n't  be 
come  me  to  say  it,  but  there  is  nothing  better  to 
be  found  in  New  York  than  the  women  of  sixty. 
You  should  know  them.  They  are  instructive." 

Mrs.  Appleby  had  every  gift  of  the  hostess 
save  that  of  pronouncing  names  distinctly. 
When,  after  presenting  Charlotte  to  Mrs. 
Cricklewood,  she  mentioned  Waring's  name  also, 
all  that  could  be  heard  was  "  Mr.  "Ware." 
Charlotte  bowed  and  took  the  seat  offered  her. 
The  folds  of  her  train  fell  about  her  chair,  height 
ening  the  grace  and  spirit  of  her  figure,  as  she 
sat,  bending  with  due  reverence  towards  the  wo 
man  of  sixty.  Waring  idly  watched  the  play  of 
light  upon  her  dress,  so  indifferent  he  thought 


104  THE  PETE  IE  ESTATE. 

himself.  He  remembered,  however,  long  after, 
how  the  light  sank  into  the  rich  stuff  and  was 
lost,  and  then  reappeared  on  some  high  surface. 

"  We  were  talking  of  our  young  New  York 
novelist  who  is  saying  such  saucy  things  about 
us  all  in  his  serial  '  Much  Ado  about  Nothing.' 
Our  critic  here  calls  him  an  unlicked  cub  :  I 
call  him  a  burning  genius,"  said  Mrs.  Crickle- 
wood. 

Charlotte  looked  gayly  from  one  to  the  other. 
"  I  agree  with  both,  with  all  my  heart." 

"  Tut,  tut,  is  that  the  way  you  go  through  the 
world,  on  both  sides  of  every  question  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  Mrs.  Cricklewood,  I  think  it  is  grow 
ing  to  be  my  way,  more  and  more." 

"But  you  have  principles  ?  " 

"  I  have  always  supposed  I  had.  I  was  born 
in  New  England." 

"  Ah,  there  's  no  doubt,  then.  Like  quills 
upon  the  fretful  porcupine.  I  am  an  escaped 
New  Englander  myself." 

Charlotte  wondered  what  her  aunt  would  think 
of  this.  To  aunt  Cornelia  drawing-room  satire 
was  matter  hid  in  a  strange  tongue.  The  dear 
woman  would  have  turned  pale  if  she  had  heard 
Mrs.  Cricklewood's  next  remark,  which  related 
to  Boston. 

Waring  saw  Mrs.  Cricklewood's  monologue 
establishing  itself,  and  being  a  privileged  fol- 


AT  MBS.  APPLEBY'S.  105 

lower,  he  cut  across  it  boldly.  "  Take  care, 
Miss  Coverdale,  to  agree  with  Mrs.  Cricklewood 
and  me,  and  you  will  cover  the  ground." 

"  Exactly  what  culture  is  aiming  at  now 
adays,"  Mrs.  Cricklewood  answered  for  her. 
"  Give  me  wholesome  bigotry."  She  was  off  and 
away  again  upon  a  train  of  anecdotes  illustrat 
ing  delightful  cases  of  bigotry.  Waring  saw 
with  satisfaction  an  old  gentleman  bearing 
down  upon  their  group,  and  was  not  sorry 
when  Mrs.  Cricklewood  greeted  him  and  placed 
her  hand  authoritatively  upon  the  arm  of  a  chair 
beside  her.  Waring  made  an  effort  to  detach 
Charlotte  from  the  conversation. 

"  Miss  Coverdale,  we  have  friends  in  common, 
have  we  not  ?  —  the  Hathaways  ?  " 

"  Oh,  do  you  know  my  cousins  ?  "  said  Char 
lotte,  with  the  pleasure  of  one  among  strangers. 

Waring  was  the  least  vain  of  men,  but  it 
crossed  his  mind  that  since  he  had  listened  to 
so  much  talk  about  Miss  Coverdale,  it  was  not 
quite  the  fair  thing  that  she  had  never  heard  of 
him.  It  was  a  trifle  awkward  to  explain  who  he 
was. 

"  Hathaway  is  an  old  friend  of  mine." 

"  And  Mrs.  Hathaway  is  my  cousin.  Are  you 
often  at  their  house  ?  " 

"  Often.  They  have  promised  that  I  should 
meet  you."  When  Waring  found,  however,  that 


106  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

his  intimacy  with  the  Hathaways  counted  for  so 
little  in  Miss  Coverdale's  eyes,  he  prepared  to 
return  to  impersonal  topics.  Another  common 
interest  would  remain  forever  untouched,  he 
thought.  It  would  not  be  necessary  to  speak  to 
this  self-centred  young  lady  about  so  sensitive 
a  subject  as  his  friendship  with  James  Petrie. 

One  more  mention  of  Charlotte's  cousins  he 
let  fall.  "  Grace  Hathaway  speaks  of  you." 

"  When  Mrs.  Appleby  spoke  your  name,  did 
I  understand  ?  "  asked  Charlotte,  sitting  erect. 

"  Waring.     My  name  is  Waring." 

"  And  are  you  really  Mr.  Waring  ?  " 

What  more  could  man  ask  than  the  glad  rec 
ognition  in  her  voice  ? 

"  Then  you  were  the  friend  of  my  cousin 
James  Petrie  who  died  alone  here.  You  are  the 
only  person  who  knew  him." 

Her  voice  thrilled  with  sadness  and  tender 
ness.  Waring  was  grateful  to  her. 

"  I  knew  him  well.  He  was  a  good  friend  to 
me." 

"  You  will  tell  me  about  him,  will  you  not  ? 
He  was  a  distant  relative,  but  certain  —  cir 
cumstances  —  have  brought  me  near  to  him. 
You  know,  perhaps." 

Waring  bowed  gravely. 

"  I  have  thought  a  great  deal  about  him.  I 
have  wished  that  I  could  have  done  something 


AT  MRS.  APPLES Y'S.  107 

for  him,  he  has  done  so  much  for  me.  I  wish  I 
could  have  given  him  my  respect  and  affection." 

"  He  was  worthy  of  it." 

"  It  seems  a  loss  and  a  waste  that  I  could  not 
have  known  him,  that  I  could  not  have  been 
of  some  comfort  to  him,  at  least  in  those  last 
days.  You  would  hardly  believe  how  much  I 
think  of  it." 

How  much  she  thought  of  it  was  indeed 
proved  by  the  feeling  with  which  she  was  now 
speaking  to  a  stranger.  Waring  was  touched 
by  the  tremor  in  her  voice.  "  I  wish  you  would 
tell  me  about  him,"  she  pleaded. 

Waring  spoke  more  freely  about  his  friend 
than  he  had  done  even  in  talk  with  Hathaway. 
Charlotte  joined  herself  frankly  with  him  in  the 
possession  of  James  Petrie's  memory.  "  We 
must  not  let  him  be  forgotten,"  she  said.  "  I 
wish  that  we  could  establish  some  memorial  of 
him ;  something  that  would  make  his  name  re 
membered  here  in  his  own  country.  You  will 
help  me  to  think  of  the  best  thing?" 

"  I  do  not  know  how  he  looked,"  continued 
Charlotte.  "  Have  you  a  photograph  ?  Is 
there  no  likeness  ?  " 

"  There  is  an  admirable  portrait  of  him  some 
where  in  London.  I  hardly  know  who  claims 
it." 

"  Could  I  get  possession  of  it?     It  would  be 


108  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

more  to  me  than  to  any  one  else,  I  am  sure. 
Could  I,  do  you  think?" 

"  I  will  see  what  can  be  done  about  it,"  said 
Waring  thoughtfully. 

"He  brought  little  to  this  country  with  him," 
Charlotte  continued.  "  A  few  things  were  sent 
to  me,  —  some  books  and  an  escritoire."  War 
ing  remembered  well  that  the  escritoire  had  been 
taken  apart  in  the  search  for  a  will.  Charlotte 
paused,  with  a  moment's  timidity.  "  I  should 
be  very  glad  if  you  could  have  something  that 
belonged  to  him.  Perhaps  you  will  look  the 
books  over  ?  "  Charlotte  paused  again,  arrested 
by  an  intuition  of  some  unfitness.  She  looked  at 
Waring,  and  was  glad  when  he  thanked  her 
heartily. 

They  parted,  each  with  a  distinct  impression 
of  the  other.  It  might  have  deepened  had  they 
met  soon  again,  but  weeks  passed  and  a  series 
of  accidents  kept  them  apart. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

ONE  OF  CHAELOTTE'S  INTEKRUPTIONS. 

As  Charlotte  had  left  Mrs.  Appleby's  draw 
ing-room,  Miss  Devine  had  followed  her  to  the 
foot  of  the  stairs.  "  This  is  Miss  Coverdale,  is 
it  not  ?  I  presume  I  may  introduce  myself  — 
Miss  Devine."  Charlotte  turned  in  surprise, 
and  would  have  spent  few  words  upon  Miss  De- 
vine,  had  not  a  strong  light  beaten  down  upon 
the  face  of  the  young  woman  and  revealed  lines 
of  care  and  privation.  "  "Would  you  allow  me 
to  call  upon  you,  Miss  Coverdale,  to  consult 
with  you  ?  "  The  restless,  anxious  manner  of 
Miss  Devine  led  Charlotte  to  guess  some  press 
ing  need,  and  she  said  gently,  "  Come  to-morrow 
morning."  Accordingly,  at  ten  o'clock  the  next 
day,  Miss  Devine  was  shown  into  the  room. 
She  was  expensively  dressed  ;  her  wraps  and 
millinery  were  unexceptionable.  She  had  pre 
pared  her  own  breakfast  in  her  tiny  room  at  the 
top  of  a  quiet  and  elegant  hotel.  She  had  the 
advantage  of  a  fashionable  address  with  which  to 
head  her  letters,  and  sumptuous  corridors  and 


110  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

parlors  for  her  visitors.  For  her  personal  comfort 
she  asked  little.  In  a  better  cause,  her  hardships 
would  have  been  heroic.  Her  cramped  room 
had  no  heat ;  it  had  no  closet ;  it  looked  upon  a 
court  and  never  knew  the  full  light  and  air  of 
day.  Miss  Devine's  breakfast  she  fondly  called 
"  European,"  and  mentioned  that  she  always 
took  her  "  coffee  "  in  her  room.  The  plainer 
truth  was  that  she  made  some  feeble  coffee  over 
a  gas  stove,  then  held  a  slice  or  two  of  yester 
day's  bread  over  the  flame,  and  buttered  the 
smoky  toast  with  an  untidy  dab  of  butter  brought 
in  from  the  window-sill.  She  had  never  been 
able  to  find  the  right  name  for  her  luncheon.  It 
too  often  consisted  of  a  half  dozen  buns  smuggled 
into  the  hotel  in  a  genteel  shopping-bag.  When 
times  were  good,  Miss  Devine  had  one  substan 
tial  meal  a  day  ;  but  her  normal  state  had  been 
one  of  simple  hunger,  until  she  had  become  in 
genious  in  contriving  means  to  spoil  her  appe 
tite. 

Miss  Devine  enjoyed  the  room  in  which  she 
sat  and  waited  for  Charlotte.  She  would  have 
been  in  a  state  of  complete  physical  comfort,  had 
not  faint  odors  of  breakfast  stolen  along  the  hall, 
and  the  distant  tinkle  of  teaspoons  and  china 
reached  her  ear.  She  turned  to  books  and  pic 
tures,  and  had  in  her  hands  an  English  review 
as  Charlotte  entered. 


ONE  OF  CHARLOTTE'S  INTERRUPTIONS.    Ill 

It  was  Miss  Devine  who  introduced  the  sub 
ject  of  Mrs.  Appleby's  reception.  "  Do  you 
know,"  she  said,  "  I  did  not  feel  myself  quite  en 
rapport  with  my  audience.  Perhaps  you  ob 
served.  I  am  very  sensitive  to  my  audience.  I 
feel.  No,  I  felt  that  my  audience  did  not  follow 
me.  I  half  suspected  that  they  did  not  care  for 
Browning."  Miss  De vine's  voice  sank,  reproach 
ful.  "  Yet  Browning  interpreted  is  quite  a  dif 
ferent  thing,  is  it  not,  Miss  Coverdale,  from 
Browning  of  the  printed  page  ?  " 

"  Indeed  it  is,"  Charlotte  roused  herself  to  say. 
She  had  become  lost  in  a  study  of  character. 
This  was  her  first  encounter  with  an  interpreter 
of  Browning. 

"  I  felt  your  sympathy  last  night."  The 
drawn  lines  around  Miss  De  vine's  mouth  were 
pathetic  as  she  smiled  trustfully  at  Charlotte. 
"  You  are  a  follower  of  Browning  ?  " 

Charlotte  devoutly  believed  herself  to  be,  but 
she  hesitated ;  it  was  too  difficult  and  sacred  a 
subject  to  enter  upon  in  this  presence. 

"  Ah,"  said  Miss  Devine  reproachfully,  "  I 
hoped  you  felt  as  I  did.  Browning  to  me  is 
meat  and  drink.  Browning  to  me  is  the  four 
elements, — air,  earth,  fire,  and  water."  Miss 
Devine  spoke  these  words  with  much  elocution 
ary  effect,  having  often  repeated  them.  Char 
lotte  listened  curiously,  thinking  that  she  caught 
a  fragment  of  an  idea. 


TIIE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

"  There  are  those  who  profess  to  study  Brown 
ing.  I  do  not."  Miss  Devine  closed  her  eyes. 
"  I  give  myself  up  ;  I  feel,  I  absorb  ;  I  do  not 
think ;  we  think  too  much  ;  we  should  become 
passive  ;  we  should  let  poetry  master  us."  Miss 
De vine's  voice  became  more  dreamy  and  her  at 
titude  more  trance-like.  Charlotte  looked  and 
listened  in  wonderment.  "  Browning  "  by  relax 
ation  ;  it  was  a  method  of  study  she  had  not 
before  heard  of.  She  had  never  been  better  en 
tertained,  but  she  wished  that  the  young  lady 
would  mention  her  errand.  Aunt  Cornelia  had 
by  this  time  joined  them,  but  took  no  part  in  the 
conversation.  She  let  her  knitting  drop  in  her 
lap,  and  looked  at  Miss  Devine  with  head  low 
ered  and  a  little  on  one  side.  From  the  first, 
she  had  viewed  her  with  mingled  respect  and 
distrust,  as  a  supposed  product  of  New  York. 

"And  your  work  this  winter? "said  Char 
lotte. 

"  Ah,  my  work  in  New  York  !  "  cried  Miss 
Devine  ardently.  "  I  find  New  York  very 
sympathetic,  very  stimulating/'  She  turned  to 
Miss  Cornelia,  whose  look  at  that  moment  could 
hardly  have  been  called  either  sympathetic  or 
stimulating. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you,  ladies,  what  I  propose  for 
this  winter  ?  " 

"  Pray  tell  us,"  said  Charlotte. 


ONE  OF  CHARLOTTE'S  INTERRUPTIONS.    113 

"  And  will  you  advise  me  frankly  ?  "  Miss 
Devine  flung-  herself  upon  them  with  abandon 
that  Miss  Cornelia  resented.  "  Your  name, 
Miss  Coverdale,  would  be  very  valuable.  If  you 
would  act  as  one  of  the  patronesses  "  — 

"  But  my  name  is  worth  nothing.  I  am  al 
most  a  stranger  in  New  York.  And  what  are 
you  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  begin  my  season  with  a  course  of  five 
readings  from  Dante,  in  influential  parlors." 

Miss  Cornelia's  face  was  stern.  Charlotte 
asked  composedly,  "  What  are  the  conditions, 
—  the  terms,  for  your  readings  ?  " 

"  Ten  dollars,  —  two  dollars  for  each  reading. 
I  have  opera  prices,"  she  said,  smiling  from  one 
to  the  other,  as  was  her  habit  in  addressing  an 
audience. 

"  How  large  an  audience  can  you  seat  in  par 
lors  ?  " 

"  Ah,  there  will  you  help  me,  ladies  ?  "  She 
addressed  them  as  if  they  were  a  roomful.  "  Will 
you  allow  the  use  of  your  parlors  for  my  first 
reading  ?  Will  you  speak  of  the  course  among 
your  friends  ?  There  may  be  a  number  of 
them  who  would  like  to  become  subscribers. 
Their  names  should  be  printed  at  once  upon  my 
tickets.  You  have  influence  with  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  whom  I  appeared  before  last  night. 
That  was  not  my  usual  audience,  not  so  purely 


114  THE  FETR1E  ESTATE. 

a  fashionable  audience  ;  but  it  was  an  audience 
that  I  wish  to  win.  Each  has  its  peculiar  char 
acter,  do  you  understand?  " 

Charlotte  was  quite  able  to  understand. 

"  The  artist  is  very  sensitive  to  this."  Miss 
Devine  breathed  through  her  teeth,  and  added 
a  little  shiver  to  express  how  extreme  was  her 
own  sensibility.  "  I  am  not  content  until  I  take 
complete  possession  of  an  audience,  —  not  until 
I  have  possessed  myself  of  their  souls.  People 
ask  me  my  method  of  teaching.  That,  I  tell 
them,  is  my  method ;  I  take  possession  of  their 
souls." 

Aunt  Cornelia  fairly  blinked.  Charlotte  glee 
fully  anticipated  the  rehearsal  of  this  scene  to 
John  Hathaway.  She  now  remarked  with  un 
sympathetic  common-sense,  "  That,  I  should  say, 
was  in  effect  the  method  of  all  good  teachers." 

Miss  Devine  looked  faintly  disappointed,  and 
altered  her  tone.  "  A  lady  of  your  wealth,  posi 
tion,  and  influence,  Miss  Coverdale,  will  be  most 
valuable  as  a  patroness.  I  will  send  you  ten 
complimentary  tickets.  There  were  people  at 
Mrs.  Appleby's  whom  I  should  like  to  reach. 
Mrs.  Appleby  herself,  of  course.  She  is  most 
kind,  but  is  n't  she  considered  a  little  cold  ?  —  a 
little  reserved  ?  There  was  Mr.  Waring  of  the 
'  Citizen.'  The  power  of  the  press,  you  know. 
We  artists  must  win  the  press.  I  have  had 


ONE  OF  CHARLOTTE'S  INTERRUPTIONS.    115 

most  flattering  press  notices."  Miss  Devine 
drew  from  her  hand-bag  a  bunch  of  newspaper 
cuttings.  "  If  you  cared  to  examine  them, 
ladies." 

Miss  Cornelia  picked  up  her  knitting  in  haste, 
but  Charlotte  glanced  at  the  notices.  They  were 
for  the  most  part  clipped  from  provincial  papers. 
One  or  two  society  journals  had  good-naturedly 
inserted  flattering  items  penned  by  the  lady  her 
self.  She  had  lost  no  time  in  sending  to  several 
papers  such  notice  of  her  appearance  at  Mrs. 
Appleby's. 

"  You  see  your  name,  Miss  Coverdale  ?  "  she 
said  impressively. 

While  Charlotte  read  the  notices,  she  was 
meditating.  Mrs.  Appleby  had  countenanced 
Miss  Devine,  and  she  herself  could  not  well 
refuse  the  support  that  her  experienced  friend 
had  seen  fit  to  give.  Thus  a  social  difficulty  is 
passed  on  from  one  to  another,  and  Miss  Devine 
and  her  like  are  floated  off.  Moreover,  as  Char 
lotte  studied  the  face  of  the  young  woman  before 
her,  compassion  overtook  her.  She  became  filled 
with  a  humane  desire  to  give  her  a  good  meal. 
She  revolved  inviting  her  to  luncheon ;  but 
that  was  two  hours  away,  and  in  the  mean 
while  Charlotte  had  an  appointment  to  keep  in 
Keyser  Street.  She  begged  her  visitor  to  re 
main  in  the  library  or  to  return  at  one  o'clock 


116  THE  FETEIE  ESTATE. 

and  continue  the  talk  about  the  readings.  "  My 
aunt  will  be  here,"  she  said  deprecatingly,  for 
Miss  Cornelia  did  not  look  overpleased  at  the 
prospect  of  Miss  Devine's  society.  Neverthe 
less,  the  old  lady  remained  at  her  post,  with  one 
eye  upon  the  visitor  ;  for  Miss  Cornelia  stood 
always  in  fear  of  some  new  form  of  city  impos 
ture  on  any  occasion  when  there  were  "stran 
gers  in  the  house."  Miss  Devine  accepted  the 
invitation  cordially,  both  because  she  thought  it 
for  her  interest  to  found  an  intimacy  with  Miss 
Coverdale,  and  because  she  sincerely  enjoyed  the 
prospect  of  a  morning  among  Charlotte's  books. 

The  luncheon  was  abundant  and  nourishing, 
and  the  guest  ate  and  talked  with  evident  enjoy 
ment.  She  uttered  many  opinions  of  "  men  and 
things,"  as  she  expressed  it,  which  were  thor 
oughly  clever  adaptations  of  other  people's 
thoughts.  Miss  Devine  was  under  the  law  an 
honest  woman,  but  in  a  certain  form  of  petty 
larceny  she  was  an  expert.  She  was  a  cool 
hand  at  introducing  second-hand  conclusions, 
with  an  earnest  "  I  have  always  thought  "  or 
"  I,  for  my  part,  believe."  Nevertheless,  she 
was  a  talker  that  one  listened  to,  though  she 
was  often  interesting  not  quite  in  the  way  she 
purposed.  Through  her  egotism  and  pretense, 
Charlotte  detected  aspiration  and  appreciation 
that  touched  her,  along  with  Miss  Devine's 


ONE  OF  CHARLOTTE'S  INTERRUPTIONS.    117 

manifest  anxiety  about  material  things.  When 
Miss  Coverdale  had  seen  her  visitor  depart,  she 
said  to  herself,  "  Truly  I  am,  as  Mrs.  Crickle- 
wood  says,  on  both  sides  of  nearly  every  ques 
tion.  Whether  this  little  woman  is  more  vulgar 
or  pathetic  I  cannot  tell."  She  further  said  to 
herself  that  she  would  maintain  what  relations 
she  pleased  between  Miss  Devine  and  herself, 
but  she  would  not  aid  her  to  lay  waste  society. 
Miss  Coverdale's  "  influence "  she  could  not 
have  ;  but  Charlotte,  though  she  did  not  dare 
confess  it  to  her  aunt,  followed  Miss  Devine  to 
the  door  and  asked  her  to  send  her  four  tickets 
to  the  course  of  readings. 

"  Well,"  sighed  aunt  Cornelia,  "  I  never  saw 
her  like  before.  What  is  the  matter  with  her, 
Charlotte  ?  I  wish  you  would  explain  to  me. 
It  seems  to  me  there  are  a  great  many  calls 
upon  you,  dear.  You  have  a  great  many  inter 
ruptions.  If  it  is  n't  one  thing,  it  is  another. 
I  thought  you  were  going  to  have  a  little  lei 
sure." 

"  Leisure,  aunt  Cornelia  !  "  said  Charlotte  the 
next  day  at  breakfast ;  "  look  at  my  morning 
mail."  A  woman's  daily  letters  are  a  toler 
ably  accurate  reflection  of  her  life.  Charlotte's 
were  characteristic:  bills,  of  the  householder; 
invitations,  of  the  woman  of  society ;  appeals 
innumerable  for  money ;  notes,  with  polite  er- 


118  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

rands  ;  one  old-fashioned  letter  of  friendship, 
seldom  found  nowadays  outside  the  biographies 
that  aunt  Cornelia  reads.  There  was  at  the 
bottom  of  the  heap  this  morning  a  note  bearing 
an  elaborate  monogram.  Charlotte  broke  the 
seal  and  read  a  few  lines  from  Miss  Deviiie,  ele 
gantly  begging  Miss  Coverdale  to  advance  her 
the  amount  of  the  subscription  to  the  Dante 
readings.  Charlotte  wrote  the  check,  wonder 
ing  what  was  the  precise  degree  of  her  folly, 
and  how  far  she  was  justified  in  feeling  the  pity 
that  disturbed  her.  "  Poor  thing  !  "  So  she  had 
many  times  excused  herself ;  so  had  aunt  Cor 
nelia,  too.  They  never,  however,  confided  their 
weakness  to  each  other. 


CHAPTER   X. 

KEYSER    STREET. 

Two  months  had  passed  since  Charlotte's 
visit  with  Corliss  to  her  tenements  in  Keyser 
Street,  arid  in  that  time  her  life  had  divided 
into  two  parts.  With  one  half  of  her  thoughts 
she  dwelt  among  her  down-town  tenants ;  with 
the  other  half  she  lived  her  up-town  life.  The 
day  on  which  she  first  saw  lower  New  York  was 
one  never  to  be  erased  from  her  imagination. 
Cheerful  and  determined,  she  had  started  upon 
her  trip  of  exploration ;  she  returned  haggard, 
with  eyes  absent  and  haunted.  What  she  saw 
she  had  many  times  read  of,  as  all  the  world  has 
read  in  these  latter  days.  Scenes  shifted  before 
her  eyes  with  troubling  familiarity ;  for  she  had 
been  an  imaginative  reader,  and  had  seen  while 
she  read.  The  general  outlines  of  tenement- 
house  life  she  had  by  heart :  the  foul  neglect  of 
the  city  street ;  the  tall  building  teeming  with 
dirty  children ;  the  dark,  cluttered,  and  squalid 
rooms.  But  now  literary  description  translated 
itself  into  details.  A  neglected  street  was  a 


120  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

street  which  had  accumulated  a  rich  soil  of  filth, 
in  which  vile  rags  and  papers  blew  about,  stink 
ing  garbage  lay  along  the  gutter,  and  a  dead  cat 
in  the  middle  of  the  way  had  been  run  over 
more  than  once.  A  journey  up  four  flights  of 
tenement  stairs  through  dirt  and  darkness,  Char 
lotte  found  more  instructive  than  a  course  of 
reading.  Her  tenement-house  novel  had  not 
taught  her  so  much  as  the  glimpse  through  an 
open  door  of  filthy,  tousled  bedclothes,  or  the 
dirty  mattresses  turned  up  against  the  wall 
after  their  service  for  the  night  upon  the  floor 
of  the  living-room.  A  breakfast-table  was  set 
out  with  a  stone-colored  loaf  of  bread,  and  glass 
mugs  of  dark  gray  coffee.  It  was  a  table  with 
some  pretensions,  for  a  general  push  had  been 
given  to  the  things  upon  it,  and  a  cloth,  gray  as 
the  coffee,  had  been  laid  across  the  end.  Char 
lotte's  heart  sent  up  a  new  "  cry  of  the  children  " 
as  she  stepped  over  and  around  and  between  the 
little  huddling  groups,  hushed  and  stock-still  as 
the  lady  passed.  The  fair  chance  to  be  decent 
men  and  women,  —  how  was  it  to  be  given 
them  ?  She  had  read  of  the  sick  children  of 
the  tenements.  There  was  a  face  that  day 
which  was  never  to  be  forgotten  by  the  pitiful, 
thoughtful  woman  who  stood  so  far  away  in  the 
scale  of  humanity.  The  joyless  matron,  sub 
missive  and  sodden,  wns  a  type  that  Charlotte 


KEYSER  STREET.  121 

was  prepared  for.  The  young  girl  of  the  tene 
ment  house  she  had  also  heard  of.  A  pretty 
blonde  of  seventeen  dashed  through  the  passage 
way.  Corliss  was  some  distance  behind  Char 
lotte. 

"  Ilnllo,  Mame,"  he  said,  in  a  pleased  and 
amused  tone,  with  a  look  about  the  eye  that 
Charlotte  caught  as  she  turned.  He  recovered 
his  face  instantly.  He  understood  Miss  Cover- 
dale  better  upon  a  second  interview,  and  calcu 
lated  his  conduct  with  more  care.  He  replied 
gravely  and  plausibly  to  her  questions.  Every 
fault  of  the  system  he  traced  readily  to  the 
people  themselves. 

"  Of  course  they  're  crowded.  They  will  take 
boarders.  If  you  could  see  one  of  these  places 
at  night !  "  Corliss  laughed,  but  pulled  him 
self  in  quickly.  "  The  boarders,  you  see,  pretty 
nearly  pay  the  rent." 

"  Then  the  first  thing  to  do  is  to  lower  the 
rent  and  forbid  boarders." 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Corliss,  "that  would  do  very 
little  good.  There  would  only  be  more  crowd 
ing  somewhere  else." 

Charlotte  looked  thoughtful  at  this  ancient 
argument  against  resisting  evil.  She  struggled 
to  keep  her  footing  and  not  to  let  herself  be  sub 
merged  by  the  immensity  of  sin  and  suffering. 
She  could  not  deal  with  it  in  the  abstract ;  she 


122  THE  rETRIE  ESTATE. 

seized  upon  a  concrete  thing1  to  do  to-morrow. 
The  thought  of  the  poor  sapped  her  energies ; 
the  thought  of  the  men,  women,  and  children 
under  her  own  roof  nerved  her  ambition. 

"  You  can't  make  these  people  over,"  was 
Corliss's  refrain. 

Charlotte  made  no  attempt  to  reply.  It 
would  take  her  at  least  a  year,  she  felt,  to  pre 
pare  her  answer.  She  pursued  her  inquiries 
as  to  water  supply,  plumbing,  fire-escapes,  air, 
light,  and  the  other  inalienable  rights  of  man. 

"  You  could  n't  make  'em  appreciate  anything 
better,"  was  Corliss's  final  argument  always. 
"  That 's  where  these  sentimental  people  make 
their  mistake.  They  go  on  the  supposition  that 
these  people  are  the  same  sort  of  stuff  as  them 
selves.  They  write  that  way,  lots  of  'em.  The 
'  Citizen  '  made  us  no  end  of  trouble  stirring  up 
people  about  the  tenement-house  district.  They 
don't  know  what  they  're  talking  about.  I  wish 
they  'd  interview  me.  A  paper  like  the  '  Citi 
zen  '  that  sets  up  to  be  so  high-toned.  The  dull 
est  paper  in  New  York,  upon  my  word,  it  is. 
Confound  their  meddling  !  " 

The  profanity  which  he  expurgated  from  this 
speech  indicated  the  self  -  control  that  Corliss 
was  exercising  in  Charlotte's  presence.  u  They 
brought  down  the  health  officers  on  us  here  and 
the  building  commissioners." 


EEYSER  STREET.  123 

Charlotte  had  stood  still,  looking  at  him. 
"  Did  they  ?  I  am  glad  of  that." 

"  It  cost  us  hundreds  of  dollars." 

"I  hope  it  did." 

Corliss  began  to  crawl  back  from  his  position. 
"  Of  course  we  should  have  done  it  in  time. 
The  fact  was  we  did  n't  quite  know  how  bad  it 
was." 

"  Is  there  no  one  in  charge  of  the  house  ?  " 

"  We  have  always  given  it  our  personal  super 
vision,"  replied  Corliss  glibly. 

"But  is  there  no  one  on  the  spot,  responsible 
for  the  care  of  the  building?  " 

"  That  would  be  a  very  unnecessary  expense," 
said  Corliss  in  the  tone  which  he  fancied  infal 
lible  for  dealing  with  unreasonable  women. 
"  Now  I  tell  you  what  you  want,"  he  added  con 
fidentially. 

"  How  are  the  rents  collected  ?  "  she  contin 
ued. 

"  We  send  our  young  man.  If  it  is  an  obsti 
nate  case,  I  come  myself." 

Corliss  was,  on  the  whole,  satisfied  with  the 
result  of  the  expedition.  Miss  Coverdale  had 
made  but  few  comments ;  the  indignation  that 
had  once  or  twice  escaped  her  had  been  rather 
spirited  and  becoming.  It  would  be  easy  to 
turn  her  attention  to  pleasanter  matters,  he  fan 
cied.  He  left  her  with  a  jaunty,  "  When  shall 


124  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

we  go  slumming  again,  Miss  Coverdale  ?  I  am 
at  your  service." 

Meanwhile,  Charlotte  had  conceived  a  purpose 
about  which  she  wished  to  consult  John  Hatha 
way  at  the  first  opportunity.  Until  she  saw  him 
she  brooded  over  the  impressions  of  her  visit. 
They  took  violent  hold  of  her,  and,  as  she  felt, 
almost  unsteadied  her  mind.  She  had  discovered 
real  life,  since  it  was  the  life  of  the  majority,  if 
you  take  the  whole  face  of  the  globe.  Her  own 
existence  with  its  graceful  pleasures,  pretty  cul 
ture,  and  cushioned  comfort,  seemed  to  her  fantas 
tic  and  deceptive.  She  began  to  doubt  her  own 
rights  and  possessions.  Morally  speaking,  there 
seemed  no  reality  in  her  ownership  of  anything. 

"  Of  all  this  wealth,  what  have  I  a  right  to  ?  " 
she  asked  John  Hathaway  suddenly.  He  was 
startled.  Had  she  a  suspicion  ?  Perceiving  her 
meaning,  he  tried  to  show  her  that  she  was  sink 
ing  in  the  quicksands  of  socialism.  "  And  what 
could  one  woman  do,  after  all  ?  "  This  was  his 
refrain,  corresponding  to  that  of  Corliss. 

Charlotte  would  not  listen.  "And  I  have 
heard  that  what  I  saw  was  far  from  being  the 
worst.  It  seems  that  there  arc  seven  circles  of 
this  hell.  And  here  I  have  sat  thanking  Provi 
dence  for  my  happy  little  lot !  Don't  let  me 
begin  to  doubt  the  goodness  of  God.  I  am 
overpowered,  carried  under,  out  to  sea  !  " 


KEY  SEE  STREET.  125 

"  Charlotte,"  said  Hathaway,  at  the  end  of  a 
long  talk,  "  my  advice  to  you  is  this  :  either  see 
no  more  and  think  no  more  of  all  this,  or  else  see 
and  think  a  great  deal  more.  But  I  think  myself 
you  'd  better  not  harrow  your  sympathies  with 
underground  New  York.  We  are  all  living  on  a 
thin  crust,  anyway.  Oh,  well,  why  think  about 
it  ?  What  can  one  woman  do  ?  " 

Charlotte  shook  her  head,  and  would  none  of 
this  formula.  "  Your  advice  is  good,  John ;  I 
will  see  more." 

"  Well,  good-by,  Charlotte."  There  was  a 
mingled  lightness  and  sadness  in  his  tone,  as 
there  was  in  the  nature  of  the  man  himself. 

Charlotte  soon  made  a  second  visit  to  Keyser 
Street,  without  informing  her  agent.  She  recov 
ered  with  a  healthy  action  of  the  mind  from  the 
shock  of  her  first  impression,  and  came  home 
with  food  for  a  new  set  of  reflections.  Her  at 
tention  had  at  first  been  fixed  upon  the  differ 
ences  of  the  human  lot ;  at  her  second  visit,  her 
strongest  impression  had  been  of  the  similarity 
of  human  beings.  She  felt  that  she  had  discov 
ered  a  working  principle,  and  could  now  begin  to 
act.  A  kettle  boiled  in  Keyser  Street  precisely 
as  it  did  in  Van  Hatten  Park,  and  the  laws  of 
nature  operated  in  human  hearts  exactly  as  they 
did  in  the  Tipper  regions  of  the  city.  Many 
things  struck  Charlotte  as  less  hopeless,  on  her 


126  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

second  visit.  There  were  few  of  her  own  tene 
ments  so  degraded  that  she  did  not  see  strug 
gling  beneath  the  squalor  the  aspiration  after 
a  home.  There  was  the  germ  of  hope  in  this, 
even  in  the  pitiful  attempts  at  decoration,  the 
patch  of  red  in  most  rooms,  and  the  hideous 
pair  of  vases  on  the  mantel.  There  was  home 
love,  too,  she  discovered,  spite  of  the  slaps  and 
squalls.  A  frequent  sight  was  the  older  child 
comforting  and  cherishing  the  baby  in  trouble. 
Beautiful  to  Charlotte  was  the  light  in  the  face 
of  a  mother  when  notice  was  taken  of  her  chil 
dren. 

Nor  was  the  dirt  absolutely  without  protest. 
Much  furious  cleaning  was  going  on  at  the 
hour  of  Charlotte's  visit.  It  was,  in  most  cases, 
unintelligent  taking  up  of  dirt  and  putting  of  it 
down  again.  The  smells  were  abominable ;  but 
she  reflected  that  these  smells  of  old  Europe  nat 
uralized  in  our  slums  are  not  to  the  nostrils  of  a 
Polish  Jew  what  they  are  to  the  thoroughbred 
American,  the  possessor  of  the  most  delicate  nose 
among  all  the  nations. 

"  What  to  do  ?  "  had  been  Charlotte's  cry  in 
the  dark  after  her  first  sight  of  Keyser  Street. 
Light  now  rushed  in  upon  her.  Exultant  energy 
coursed  through  her  veins.  Her  cheerfulness  and 
serenity  were  restored  at  the  prospect  of  action, 
and  all  that  she  had  suffered  seemed  converted 


KEY  SEE  STREET.  127 

into  power.  Her  gift  for  organization  had  made 
High  Hill  Seminary  a  dignified  and  efficient 
school,  and  it  had  established  a  beautiful  home 
for  herself  and  her  aunt.  To  her  executive  in 
stinct,  thought  pointed  to  action  rather  than  to 
speech.  "  For  a  person  who  loves  books  as  you 
do,  you  are  the  least  bookish  person  I  ever  saw," 
a  friend  had  said  to  her.  "  When  you  talk  or 
write,  it  is  always  for  the  sake  of  getting  some 
thing  said." 

It  was  only  with  John  Hathaway  that  she 
talked  about  her  plans. 

"  I  am  going  to  do  it  at  once,  not  next  week 
or  next  year.  That  is  my  first  principle." 

"  Good." 

"  Whatever  I  do  is  temporizing.  The  only 
radical  remedy  is  to  tear  down  and  build  up 
again,  and  that  I  mean  to  accomplish  in  time. 
At  the  beginning  of  the  month,  —  that  is,  in  two 
days,  —  the  rents  go  down,  and  '  No  boarders ' 
becomes  the  law.  A  janitress,  or  housekeeper, 
is  to  be  placed  in  one  of  the  first-floor  tenements. 
I  am  fitting  up  a  room  as  an  office,  one  of  the 
prettiest  rooms  in  New  York.  There  I  intend 
to  sit  two  mornings  in  the  week." 

"  And  what  do  your  real  estate  people  say  to 
that?  " 

"  I  have  done  with  them.  I  am  going  to  be 
my  own  agent." 


128  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

"  Heavens  and  earth,  Charlotte,  do  you  know 
what  you  are  in  for  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  suppose  I  do.  But  you  will  let 
me  try  it?  Bring  your  business  man's  judgment 
to  bear.  That  is  why  I  am  consulting  you.  It 
is  not  an  impossibility  ?  " 

"No,  it  is  not  an  impossibility.  It  has  been 
done  before." 

"  Has  it  ?  "  There  was  a  shade  of  disappoint 
ment  in  Charlotte's  voice.  She  was  not  a  per 
fect  woman,  but  she  was  nobly  planned  ;  in  an 
instant,  her  magnanimity  reasserted  itself. 
"  Oh,  I  hope  it  has  succeeded." 

"  Yes,  it  has  been  tried  by  a  woman,  and  has 
succeeded,  I  believe." 

Charlotte  was  human.  Her  fair  project  looked 
duller,  less  interesting.  Such  lapses  from  no 
bility  discouraged  her. 

"But  how  do  you  get  rid  of  Corliss?  They 
have  had  charge  of  the  property  for  years.  They 
have  made  a  good  thing  out  of  it,  for  themselves 
and  for  the  owner.  They  won't  see  why  they  're 
turned  off.  The  younger  fellow  —  oh,  he  's  well 
enough  in  a  business  way,  so  long  as  his  interests 
and  yours  are  the  same." 

"  I  loathe  him,"  said  Charlotte. 

Ilathaway  laiighed.  "  Is  it  because  you  loathe 
him  that  you  are  turning  him  off?  " 

Charlotte  thought.     "  Yes,  partly.     Not  alto- 


KEYSER  STREET.  129 

getlier ;  I  want  to  be  rid  of  his  management  of 
this  property,  and  to  try  my  own." 

"  Ho  '11  be  a  good  deal  cut  up  if  he  loses  this 
business.  You  will  make  him  your  enemy." 

"  I  don't  very  well  know  what  an  enemy  is," 
Charlotte  meditated.  "  Enemies  used  to  puzzle 
me  in  the  Bible  when  I  was  a  child." 

"  Never  had  one  ?  Of  course  not !  I  should  n't 
be  surprised,  though,  if  Corliss  turned  out  a 
good  old  Scripture  enemy.  He  is  an  unprinci 
pled  fellow/' 

"  What  could  he  do  to  injure  me  ? "  cried 
Charlotte  gayly. 

"  Well,  go  ahead.  You  've  got  your  lawyers 
to  fall  back  on  for  advice,  and  I  am  always  on 
hand,  if  you  want  me." 

Before  the  day  was  over,  Charlotte  wrote  a 
letter  to  Corliss.  As  she  sat  down  at  her  desk, 
she  was  seized  with  kindness  for  the  people  who 
had  so  long  been  associated  with  her  cousin,  and 
she  wrote  a  letter  of  the  utmost  gentleness  and 
consideration. 

The  letter  was  not  read  in  that  spirit  by  Mr. 
Edward  Corliss.  He  did  not  hesitate  to  call  the 
writer  the  worst  variety  of  fool  in  his  vocabulary. 
The  result  of  the  letter  was  a  prolonged  and 
fruitful  reverie,  for  Corliss  had  a  constructive 
mind.  lie  tapped  his  desk  with  a  lead  pencil 
and  stared  at  the  inkstand.  The  sore  sense  of 


130  THE  PET  HIE  ESTATE. 

injured  merit  as  a  business  man  was  lost  in  the 
stunning  blow  to  his  vanity.  Alas  for  Malvo- 
lio! 

Corliss's  thoughts  were  the  elaboration  of  these 
heads :  — 

a.  Women  are  fools. 

b.  This  woman  is  not  only  making  a  fool  of 
herself,  she   is  making   ducks  and  drakes  of  a 
fine  property. 

c.  She  has  no  business  to  be  holding  this  prop 
erty  anyhow. 

d.  Find  that  will  —  turn  her  out  —  that  would 
even  things  up ! 

Corliss  mentioned  the  matter  that  evening  to 
a  friend  of  his,  a  detective.  The  detective's  last 
words  were,  "  The  most  improbable  thing  in  the 
world." 

"  But  the  most  improbable  thing  in  the  world 
happens  at  least  once  a  day." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

WHIST. 

MRS.  BISBEE,  iii  old  cashmere  shawl  and 
faded  rigolette,  clung  to  the  arm  of  Mr.  Pil- 
kington,  muffled  to  his  ears  in  winter  wrap 
pings.  They  walked  under  the  gaslights  to 
Charlotte's  door,  with  slow  and  dignified  step, 
for,  as  Mrs.  Bisbee  justly  remarked,  they  had 
the  evening  before  them.  Mr.  Pilkington  was 
a  trifle  wheezy,  and  Mrs.  Bisbee  a  little  stiff  in 
the  knees,  facts  treated  euphuistically  by  each 
in  the  presence  of  the  other.  The  lady's  re 
marks  to  her  companion  resounded  across  the 
still  park  in  the  night  air.  Her  partiality  was 
in  nothing  more  marked  than  in  her  loyal  in 
sistence  that  Mr.  Pilkington  was  not  deaf,  only 
inattentive.  "  He  gets  absorbed  in  his  thoughts, 
that 's  all." 

The  guests  were  evidently  awaited  by  Char 
lotte  and  her  aunt,  for  a  shining  mahogany  card- 
table  was  set  out  in  the  library,  counters  and 
cards  were  ready,  and  four  chairs  were  in  place. 
Charlotte  heard  the  door-bell  ring,  and  went 


132  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

to  the  head  of  the  stairs.  Her  aunt  laid  down 
her  novel.  Aunt  Cornelia  had  principles  of  all 
sizes.  Among  her  smaller  principles  was  one 
which  forbade  her  to  read  fiction  by  daylight. 
The  old  lady  dearly  loved  her  novel,  and  quickly 
found  her  place  as  soon  as  evening'  shut  in. 
Charlotte  was  equally  amused  at  that  delight 
ful  superstition  of  her  aunt's  which  obliged  her 
to  stand  up  to  sew,  if  by  chance  she  was  forced 
to  take  a  stitch  on  Sunday. 

"  Ah,  sweet  Mistress  Coverdale,  the  actors  are 
at  hand,"  Mrs.  Bisbee  panted  as  she  reached  the 
top  of  the  stairs. 

Charlotte  kissed  her. 

"  Life  would  be  dull  indeed  without  whist.  I 
never  take  a  hand  that  I  don't  think  of  Talley 
rand  and  the  young  man  that  did  n't  play : 
'  What  an  unhappy  old  age  you  're  laying  up 
for  yourself,  young  man !  '  Do  I  quote  that 
every  time  I  come  ?  Tell  me,  pray  do.  But  it 
is  a  fact,  life  has  an  interest  so  long  as  you  have 
a  fresh  hand  to  pick  up." 

Mr.  Pilkington  looked  very  patient  as  he  took 
his  seat  at  the  table.  lie  had  been  a  serious 
and  lifelong  whist-player,  on  whose  part  it  was 
no  small  condescension  to  play  a  rubber  with 
ladies.  It  was  pathetic  evidence  of  the  few 
resources  left  him  .that  in  these  days  he  was 
often  persuaded  to  take  a  hand  on  such  terms. 


WHIST.  133 

His  life,  however,  fell  easily  into  little  grooves 
of  habit,  and  having  played  whist  once  a  week 
in  Charlotte's  library,  through  the  autumn,  it 
became  inevitable  that  he  should  play  whist 
once  a  week  through  the  winter.  Again,  while 
the  characters  of  the  ladies  as  whist-players 
were  far  from  irreproachable,  the  lonely  old 
gentleman  found  them  otherwise  charming  com 
pany. 

Miss  Cornelia  Coverdale  also  regarded  whist 
as  one  of  the  serious  pursuits  of  life.  It  main 
tained  in  her  mind  a  dignity  and  distinction 
quite  apart  from  other  games.  Whist  and 
"  cards  "  were  to  her  as  widely  different  as  the 
people  who  played  them.  She  had  heard  of 
euchre,  and  there  were  other  vulgar  games 
whose  names  she  did  not  care  to  know.  Great 
men  had  played  whist,  —  statesmen  and  phi 
losophers,  —  and  its  mysteries  commanded  her 
reverence  and  devotion.  She  respected  Mr. 
Pilkington's  attitude,  and  deplored  Mrs.  Bis- 
bee's.  She  regretted  that  levity  and  talkative 
ness  were  even  taking  possession  of  Charlotte. 
She  had  brought  up  her  niece  to  play  a  good 
game.  "  I  know  of  no  place  where  mind  tells 
as  it  does  in  a  game  of  whist,"  Miss  Cornelia 
would  say  impressively,  as  direct  a  compliment 
as  she  ever  thought  for  the  good  of  her  niece. 
That  luck  or  chance  should  ever  enter  into  the 


134  THE  I'ETIUE  ESTATE. 

result  of  the  game  was  an  idea  as  abhorrent  to 
Miss  Cornelia  as  it  was  delightful  to  the  irre 
sponsible  Mrs.  Bisbee.  They  argued  the  ques 
tion  of  the  essential  enjoyment  of  the  game. 
"  Ah,  Miss  Cornelia,  you  play  the  New  Eng 
land  game.  We  New  England  people,"  said 
Mrs.  Bisbee,  hospitably  including  herself,  "take 
our  pleasures,  if  it 's  a  possible  thing,  even  more 
conscientiously  than  we  do  our  duties."  She 
herself  had  no  notion  of  approaching  a  game 
of  whist  as  if  it  were  a  solemn  sacrifice.  Less 
serious  players  might  have  found  her  trying. 
Mrs.  Bisbee  had  always  much  to  say,  and  she 
had  now  an  unusual  opportunity  to  say  it ;  for 
here  were  three  people  at  close  quarters  who 
could  not  rise  from  their  chairs,  and  who  were 
bound  by  their  principles  not  to  talk  them 
selves.  She  was,  moreover,  demoralizing  Char 
lotte.  When  that  young  lady  inquired  what 
was  trumps,  aunt  Cornelia  came  as  near  being 
angry  with  her  niece  as  she  had  ever  been 
known  to  be.  Charlotte  was  occasionally  ab 
sent,  as  winter  engagements  thickened,  and  the 
game  was  then  carried  on  with  a  dummy  super 
intended  by  Mrs.  Bisbee,  whose  imagination 
rollicked  about  the  empty  chair.  She  declared 
that  she  liked  to  manage  a  dummy  ;  she  had 
been  managing  dummies  all  her  life.  If  this 
were  a  reference  to  the  departed  Mr.  Bisbee, 


WHIST.  135 

Miss  Cornelia  marveled  at  its  bad  taste.  She 
delicately  hoped  that  excellent  Mr.  Pilkington 
would  not  see  in  the  remark  any  allusion  to  him 
self.  Not  he  !  He  admired  Mrs.  Bisbee  the 
woman  as  heartily  as  he  lamented  Mrs.  Bisbee 
the  whist-player. 

"  Very  well,  very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Bisbee, 
rubbing  her  hands,  "  we  have  work  before  us." 
She  took  it  for  her  privilege  to  call  the  others  to 
order  and  to  push  on  the  business  of  the  even 
ing.  "  Mr.  Pilkington,  will  you  cut  for  deal  ? 
So,  Charlotte,  we  have  been  at  last  to  hear 
Lizzie  Devine  read  from  the  '  Inferno.'  Devine 
it  used  to  be  in  the  country ;  Deveen  since  she 
has  come  to  the  city.  She  used  to  be  Lizzie 
Devine  before  she  unfurled  her  middle  name, 
Elizabeth  Otis  Devine.  And  pray  what  did  she 
have  to  say  for  herself  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Bisbee,  will  you  be  good  enough  to 
notice  that  the  trump  is  clubs  ?  " 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure.  Well,  Charlotte  ?  You 
know  I  knew  her  up  in  the  country." 

"  Yes,"  said  Charlotte,  traveling  over  her 
cards  absently. 

Her  aunt  looked  at  her  as  if  she  were  a 
naughty  child,  at  which  Charlotte  laughed,  and 
said  nothing  until  the  first  hand  was  played. 

"  Yes,  I  went  this  morning.  You  see  I  had 
some  tickets,"  Charlotte  added  apologetically. 


13G  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

"  We  were  rows  of  ladies  in  camp-chairs,  and 
we  sat  some  minutes  before  Miss  Devine  ap 
peared.  I  heard  some  one  saying  beneath  her 
breath,  '  She  always  conies  in  a  little  late.'  ' 

"  You  don't  tell  me !  "  Mrs.  Bisbee  ejaculated. 
"  Little  Liz  Devine  !  " 

"  And  somebody  else  was  saying  in  a  low 
tone,  '  She  always  eats  a  raw  egg  just  before  she 
appears.' " 

"  My  stars  !  "  said  Mrs.  Bisbee. 

"  At  last  she  entered  the  room." 

"Hear!     Hear!" 

"  She  entered  through  dark  red  portieres, 
which  she  held  back  for  a  moment  with  one 
hand,  while  she  stood  still  at  the  threshold. 
Then  she  advanced  "  — 

"  She  did  n't  merely  walk,  I  '11  be  bound,  — 
Elizabeth  Otis  Devine  !  " 

"  She  moved  her  glass  of  water  from  the  left 
to  the  right,  and  her  footstool  from  the  right 
to  the  left.  She  had  all  the  doors  and  win 
dows  readjusted,  and  when  she  had  settled  the 
draughts  to  her  mind,  seated  herself  in  a  beauti 
ful  old  armchair  and  threw  herself  into  the  atti 
tude  of  Mrs.  Siddons  as  the  Tragic  Muse." 

"  Stage-struck  !     She  always  was  !  " 

"  Miss  Devine  drooped  one  hand  over  the 
arm  of  her  chair,  the  hand  that  held  the  rose. 
On  the  opposite  arm  of  the  chair  she  rested  an 


WHIST.  137 

elbow,  and  sat  looking-  her  audience  in  the  eye. 
She  glanced  coolly  from  side  to  side,  and  up  and 
down  the  room." 

"  To  show  you  she  was  a  match  for  you.  Yes, 
yes.  And  dressed,  I  suppose  " 

"  In  dark  velvet.  A  long  train,  a  high  ruff, 
—  that  is  all  I  remember." 

"  And  Dante  you  listened  to  ?  To  what  base 
uses  we  may  return,  Horatio  !  The  noble  dust 
of  Dante-4—  But  pray  describe  her  to  me." 

"  You  shall  have  my  tickets  for  the  rest  of 
the  course,  Mrs.  Bisbee." 

"  She  can't  spare  you.  She  is  shrewd  enough 
to  know  what  you  are  worth  to  her.  Well,  there 
is  every  type  of  adventuress  in  this  great  city : 
she  is  one  specimen.  She  won't  hold  out  long. 
Did  one  of  those  ladies  go  to  hear  her  because 
she  wanted  to  ?  Not  at  all.  It  was  because 
Mrs.  X  had  asked  her  to  take  tickets,  and  she 
herself  had  just  sold  Mrs.  X  tickets  for  her  pet 
fair  ;  or  it  was  because  the  reading  was  in  Mrs. 
Y's  house,  with  whom  many  of  them  have  im 
portant  social  relations.  Or  sometimes  it  is  a 
reading  for  a  charity.  They  looked  bored  ?  I 
respect  them  for  it !  " 

"  Mrs.  Bisbee,  will  you  deal?"  said  Mr.  Pil- 
kington. 

"  With  pleasure !  You  see  she  was  a  country 
girl  with  aspirations,  —  a  little  flighty  always. 


138  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

She  used  to  speak  pieces  at  church  sociables, 
till  she  got  the  poison  of  an  audience  into  her. 
Then  she  came  out  as  a  Browning  reader,  and  a 
Delsarte  exponent,  —  I  believe  they  call  it,  — 
and  I  don't  know  what  all.  She  has  the  mor 
bid  taste  for  Browning,  fully  developed.  I  am 
glad  he  has  occasionally  a  healthy,  rational 
reader." 

While  the  hand  was  played  out,  Mrs.  Bisbee 
was  silent,  but  played  badly.  She  was  taking- 
time  to  meditate,  and  her  next  remark  might 
have  been  predicted  by  any  one  who  knew  her 
character. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  perhaps  I  have  said 
enough  about  her.  She  is  very  good  to  her 
family,  and  they  are  poor  enough,  her  old 
father  and  mother." 

"  We  ought  to  know  such  things,"  said  Char 
lotte,  "  if  they  do  spoil  the  story.  I  fancy  the 
girl  has  a  hard  life  of  it.  If  she  asked  my  ad 
vice,  I  should  tell  her  to  go  back  to  the  country, 
and  teach  her  little  school,  and  live  with  her 
parents.  Her  career,  as  she  calls  it,  will  be  the 
death  of  her.  Her  nerves  are  fast  going  to 
pieces.  And  yet,  like  everybody  else,  she  must 
come  to  New  York  to  seek  her  fortune.  How 
did  I  find  mine  so  easily?  And  they  call 
American  life  so  deadly  monotonous.  Why, 
our  changes  of  fortune  are  enough  to  keep  up 


WHIST.  139 

the  excitement.  Here  am  I.  You  all  know, 
dear  friends.  I  was  poor  yesterday,  rich  to-day ; 
who  knows  but  I  may  be  poor  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  You  don't  speculate,  my  dear  Miss  Cover- 
dale  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pilkington  facetiously. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  I  do,  —  in  Keyser  Street." 

"  We  must  not  set  too  great  a  value  upon 
money,  dear,"  said  Miss  Cornelia  gently. 

"  Aunt  Cornelia,  I  do  love  money."  Char 
lotte  spoke  not  with  fervor,  but  with  quiet  con 
viction.  "  It  is  blood  in  my  veins  ;  it  gives  me 
power  and  vitality.  I  have  my  freedom  at  last, 
and  can  be  myself.  Yes,  and  what  I  '  dare  to 
dream  of  dare  to  do.'  " 

"  She  's  got  the  right  idea,  madam,"  said  Mr. 
Pilkington,  nodding  to  Miss  Cornelia. 

"  I  am  glad  she  means  to  keep  the  upper  hand 
of  her  fortune,"  Mrs.  Bisbee  remarked.  "  I  am 
another  person  who  dares  to  spend  her  money 
as  she  pleases.  I  fancy  I  know  how  to  use  New 
York.  A  great  city  is  a  good  servant,  —  a  very 
poor  master." 

"  Mrs.  Bisbee,  I  must  remind  you  that  it  is 
your  torn  to  deal." 

Mrs.  Bisbee  dealt  briskly  with  her  fat  little 
hands,  while  her  long,  old-fashioned  watch-chain 
clanked  rhythmically  against  the  table. 

"Mrs.  Bisbee,  you  and  I  must  stop  gossip 
ing" 


140  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

"  Quite  right,  my  dear.  Silence  !  " 
Silence  there  was  for  the  length  of  five  min 
utes.  Mr.  Pilkington  bent  to  his  work  with  a 
concentration  and  force  that  the  old  gentleman 
put  into  nothing  else  of  late.  He  measured 
his  resources  with  judgment ;  he  gauged  the 
strength  of  the  enemy  with  keen  observation 
and  inference ;  he  arrayed  himself  against  the 
other  side  in  merciless  opposition.  He  fought 
every  inch  of  ground  with  the  pure  spirit  of 
warfare.  This  primitive  enjoyment  of  a  good 
fight  Charlotte  watched  with  interest,  and  the 
more  interest  that  it  was  no  part  of  her  own 
nature.  There  were  elemental  energies  in  the 
old  whist  -  player  that  were  completely  done 
away  with  in  her  woman's  character.  She  re 
membered  Mrs.  Bisbee's  discourse  upon  the 
"  boy  eternal."  "  I  have  yet  to  see  the  man  so 
old  that  it  is  n't  there,"  remarked  that  philo 
sopher.  "  He  wants  to  see  the  fire,  he  wants  to 
hear  the  shouting,  he  wants  to  see  how  the  thing 
works,  and  in  some  shape  or  other,  he  loves  a 
schoolboy  fight  to  the  very  end." 

Opposite  Mr.  Pilkington  sat  his  feminine 
counterpart.  Miss  Cornelia  played  with  scru 
pulous  neatness,  with  faithful  memory  and  nice 
calculation,  with  the  desire  to  acquit  herself 
honorably  and  to  retire  from  the  game  with  no 
blunders  to  mar  her  self-respect.  In  short,  the 


WHIST.  141 

pleasure  of  an  evening  of  whist  was  to  Miss 
Cornelia  altogether  the  pleasure  of  a  good  con 
science.  She  did  not  snuff  the  battle  as  her 
partner  did,  nor  did  she  comprehend  how  a 
mild  old  gentleman  could  develop  so  fierce  a 
spirit,  or  how  a  gallant  old  gentleman  could 
cease  to  regard  his  companions  as  anything 
beyond  first,  second,  and  third  hand. 

A  new  deal  released  the  talkers,  and  Mrs. 
Bisbee  lost  no  time. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  seen  the  '  Citizen  '  to 
day.  No  ?  Not  the  editorial  on  the  Penalties 
of  American  Good-nature?  Ah,  but  I  quarrel 
with  him.  It  is  the  thing  I  am  proudest  of. 
We  have  more  adaptability  than  any  other  na 
tion.  You  can  set  us  down  anywhere  !  And 
what  is  adaptability  but  good-nature,  with  just 
an  added  touch  ?  I  am  keeping  my  eye  on  the 
young  man  who  is  writing  these  editorials.  Oh, 
he  is  young,  that  I  am  sure  of." 

"Not  strikingly  young,"  said  Charlotte.  "He 
is  a  friend  of  the  Ilathaways." 

"  Eh,  you  know  him  ?  And  he  does  n't  find 
America  at  all  to  his  mind?  Ah,  ah,  'disable 
all  the  benefits  of  your  own  country,  be  out  of 
love  with  your  nativity,  and  almost  chide  God 
for  making  you  that  countenance  you  are,  or  I 
will  scarce  think  you  have  swam  in  a  gondola.'  " 

"  Mrs.  Bisbee,  Mrs.  Bisbee,"  cried  Charlotte, 


142  THE  PET1UE  ESTATE. 

"  you  do  not  appreciate  the  quality  of  Mr.  War- 
ing's  patriotism." 

Mrs.  Bisbee,  launched  in  Shakespearean  quo 
tation,  was  not  to  be  held  back.  "  It  is  true 
enough,  he  has  a  melancholy  of  his  own,  com 
pounded  of  many  simples,  extracted  from  many 
objects,  and  indeed  the  sundry  contemplation  of 
his  travels.  You  see  I  follow  his  articles.  Tell 
me,  do  you  find  him  wrapped  in  a  most  humor 
ous  sadness  ?" 

"  He  is  far  from  being  your  melancholy 
Jaques,  Mrs.  Bisbee." 

"  You  defend  him  ?" 

"  lie  is  the  best  patriot  I  know." 

Mrs.  Bisbee's  eyes  twinkled  and  sharpened, 
and  then  seemed  to  Charlotte  to  bore  like  gim 
lets.  "  Beatrice  and  I  can  see  a  church  by  day 
light,"  remarked  Mrs.  Bisbee. 

"  Spare  me,"  said  Charlotte.  "  I  have  met 
Mr.  Waring  once.  I  merely  follow  his  articles, 
as  you  do." 

"  His  name  is  Waring  ?  "  Ungrateful  Mrs. 
Bisbee !  Waring  remembered  her,  and  in  ten 
minutes  had  acquired  a  relish  for  her  company. 

"  Is  n't  it  about  time  for  a  little  refreshment, 
Charlotte,  before  we  play  the  rubber  ?  "  With 
these  precise  words,  at  this  precise  moment  in 
the  game,  the  tension  of  the  evening  was  every 
week  relaxed.  Miss  Cornelia's  rigorous  part- 


WHIST.  143 

ner  became  again  the  mild-mannered  old  gentle 
man,  waiting  to  obey  the  slightest  hest  of  the 
three  superior  ladies.  Miss  Cornelia  herself 
leaned  against  the  back  of  her  chair,  for  the 
first  time  since  the  game  had  begun.  She  was 
now  full  of  gentle  hospitality,  for  aunt  Corne 
lia  never  took  such  pleasure  in  her  friends  as 
when  she  was  delicately  feeding  them.  The 
little  feast  was  pretty  to  the  eye,  as  it  was  set 
out  upon  the  dark  mahogany  table.  The  rich- 
hued  raspberry  shrub  from  aunt  Cornelia's  own 
vintage  was  poured  from  a  many-faceted  de 
canter  that  snatched  the  light  and  danced  with 
it.  A  frail  Venetian  plate  of  wonderful  pris 
matic  colors,  frosted  with  gold,  bore  dainty,  fan 
tastic  cakes. 

Surrounded  by  the  older  people,  Charlotte's 
youth  was  brought  into  relief,  and  she  looked 
and  felt  her  youngest  as  she  sat  on  a  low  stool 
by  Mrs.  Bisbee's  side,  and  nestled  to  her  confi 
dentially  as  her  voice  lowered.  Miss  Cornelia 
and  Mr.  Pilkington  were  absorbed  in  the  discus 
sion  of  "  that  last  hand." 

"  And  how  goes  the  role  of  landlady  ?  "  said 
Mrs.  Bisbee  affectionately.  "You  don't  look 
it  precisely." 

"  See  me  in  my  office,  Mrs.  Bisbee." 

"  You  know  I  am  not  convinced." 

"  I  can't  convince  you  here — by  talking." 


144  THE  PET1UE  ESTATE. 

"  Very  well,  I  will  come.     To-morrow  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  there.  It  is  the  first  of  the  month 
and  the  rents  are  paid  to  me." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  at  it  ?  " 

"  Three  months." 

"  And  you  fancy  it  pays  ?  " 

"  You  can  come  and  see.  You  are  not  a  re 
porter.  We  have  had  hard  work  to  keep  off 
reporters.  We  are  not  ready  for  them  yet." 

"  Let  your  light  shine,  my  dear.  For  mercy's 
sake,  don't  keep  good  works  out  of  the  news 
papers.  The  devil  gets  a  deal  more  than  his 
share  of  space." 

"  I  will  not  be  held  up  as  a  philanthropist,  — 
only  as  a  business  woman.  I  am  a  bold  specu 
lator,  Mrs.  Bisbee,  that  is  all." 

"  I  hope  it  is  n't  altogether  treasure  laid  up 
in  heaven." 

"  It  pays  me  five  per  cent,  on  earth.  As  for 
the  happiness  it  gives  me,  I  need  not  wait  for 
heaven,  either." 

"  There  's  no  need  of  anybody's  waiting  for 
heaven,  dear  child."  Mrs.  Bisbee  looked  into 
Charlotte's  pure,  steady  eyes,  and  thought,  had 
she  been  the  girl's  lover,  she  should  have  known 
what  to  say  to  her. 

As  the  good-nights  were  spoken,  Mrs.  Bisbee 
said  to  Charlotte,  "  Come  over  and  see  me,  and 
we  will  finish  these  things  they  would  u't  let  us 


WHIST.  145 

talk  about  to-night.  I  have  hardly  spoken  a 
word.  I  stand  in  such  awe  of  Mr.  Pilkington. 
Who  beat  the  rubber  ?  I  have  forgotten,  al 
ready.  Good-night,  good-night ! " 


CHAPTER  XII. 
IN   WHICH   NOTHING   HAPPENS. 

MRS.  HATHAWAY  was  not  without  ideals  of 
wifely  devotion.  She  was  critical  of  her  hus 
band's  dress ;  especially,  when  they  set  out  to 
gether  in  the  trying  light  of  the  street,  she  would 
inform  him  that  he  was  badly  brushed,  and 
would  beg  to  know  if  he  had  not  a  better  pair  of 
gloves.  She  had  an  anxious  care  of  his  health, 
and  would  follow  him  up  at  table  :  "  You  know 
you  oughtn't  to  eat  this,"  and,  "  John,  why  will 
you  eat  that  ?  "  When  he  was  late  to  dinner, 
she  was  scrupulous  in  sitting  with  him  till  he 
had  finished  his  meal.  Nor  did  she  neglect  to 
talk  to  him  while  he  wearily  went  on  with  his 
meat  and  pudding.  At  these  belated  meal-times, 
with  the  children  and  servants  dismissed,  she 
found  the  chance  to  introduce  and  carry  tli rough 
some  of  her  most  important  projects.  To-night, 
however,  she  started  another  theme. 

"  I  lose  all  patience  with  Charlotte,"  she  cried 
suddenly. 

It  was  noticeable  that  Mrs.  Hathaway  had  no 
power  to  criticise  Charlotte  save  when  absent 


IN  WHICH  NOTHING  HAPPENS.         147 

from  her  cousin.  The  womanly  sympathy  which 
was  strong  in  Charlotte,  and  which  made  other 
women  trust  her  and  find  comfort  in  her,  held 
even  Sue  Hathaway  in  its  power  so  long  as  the 
two  cousins  were  together.  They  were  no  sooner 
separated  than  Mrs.  Hathaway  began  to  see 
faults.  "  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  her," 
she  added.  She  was  obliged  to  say  a  thing  twice 
to  her  husband  when  he  was  tired. 

"  What  has  Charlotte  done  ?  "  he  said  at  last. 

"She  throws  away  her  opportunities.  She 
throws  away  New  York." 

"  Why,  I  rather  fancied  she  was  making  the 
most  of  New  York." 

"  She  will  never  marry,  at  this  rate." 

"  What  should  she  want  to  marry  for  ?  I 
would  n't  if  I  were  in  her  place.  She 's  better 
off  as  she  is."  The  idea  was  not  a  pleasant  one. 

"  She  has  got  in  with  a  lot  of  Bohemians,  who 
are  nothing  but  a  hindrance  to  her.  It  all  comes 
of  her  going  to  that  boarding-house.  As  if  she 
wanted  to  know  people  she  picked  up  in  such  a 
place!  She  has  been  going  to  the  symphony 
concerts  with  that  dreadful  old  frump,  with  her 
bonnet  over  one  ear,  —  Mrs.  Busbee,  or  some 
such  name." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Bisbee,"  said  Hathaway,  brighten 
ing. 

"  Such  clothes  I  never  saw  ! : 


148  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

"  They  say  only  Frenchwomen  know  how  to 
make  the  most  of  both  their  brains  and  their 
pins." 

Mrs.  Hathaway  paused.  "  Why  jiins  ?  Oh, 
yes  !  What  a  queer  expression  !  " 

"  Where 's  her  aunt  ?  " 

"  Oh,  aunt  Cornelia  dreads  to  go  out  evenings. 
You  might  know  she  would!  Fortunately, 
Charlotte  has  an  excellent  maid,  and  then,  Char 
lotte  cannot  be  called  young  much  longer.  Still, 
she  has  her  money  in  her  favor.  But  she  hasn't 
the  faintest  notion  how  to  please.'1''  Pretty  Mrs. 
Hathaway  spoke  with  conscious  authority.  There 
was  nothing  for  Hathaway  to  reply  to  this,  and 
his  wife  continued,  "  She  goes  out  a  great  deal, 
it  is  true,  but  I  don't  know  how  to  describe  it : 
she  does  n't  seem  to  do  it  in  a  serious  spirit." 

Hathaway  looked  up  and  laughed. 

"  Nobody  can  say  she  does  n't  enjoy  it.  I 
have  seen  her  at  a  tiresome  tea,  and  she  has 
looked  perfectly  radiant.  She  enjoys  the  flowers 
and  the  music  and  the  dresses  a  great  deal  more 
than  I  do.  I  'm  bored  to  death.  But  then, 
after  all,  she  is  merely  amused  by  it.  She  goes 
home  and  makes  a  good  story  out  of  it  for  aunt 
Cornelia  and  that  Mrs.  —  I  forget  her  name. 
She  does  n't  seem  to  see  the  meaning  of  it  all." 

"  I  am  glad  if  you  do." 

"  Then  she  entertains  in  such  an  irresponsible 


IN  WHICH  NOTHING  HAPPENS.         149 

way.  She  simply  invites  anybody  she  feels  like 
inviting.  I  should  like  to  know  what  would  be 
come  of  society  if  people  just  picked  out  their 
friends.  It  would  be  a  queer  world  to  live  in  ! 
Charlotte  has  so  little  sense  of  obligation.  I 
tell  her,  You  ought  to  do  this,  and  you  ought 
to  do  thus  and  so  ;  but  it  seems  to  make  no  im 
pression.  I  think  myself  that  Charlotte  is, 
after  all,  rather  superficial." 

Mrs.  Hathaway  had  given  her  husband  no 
chance  to  reply,  but  she  was  irritated  that  he 
said  nothing. 

"Oh,  I  know  you  like  to  take  the  opposite 
side,  but  you  know  very  well  Charlotte  is  n't 
your  sort  of  woman.  Why  did  you  marry  me, 
pray,  if  she  was  ?  Charlotte  and  I  are  slightly 
different." 

"  Suppose  you  give  me  some  of  that  pudding, 
Sue." 

"  Then  there  's  that  tenement-house  craze  of 
hers.  Not  that  there  's  any  harm  in  charities. 
She  might  be  getting  in  with  some  of  the  best 
people  that  way,  but  she  refuses  everything,  be 
cause  she  is  so  absorbed  down  there  in  that  out- 
of-the-way  place.  What  I  am  afraid  of,  is  her 
putting  her  ideas  into  Grace." 

She  waited  for  him,  and  he  said  wearily, 
"Why  do  you  object?"  The  inanity  of  his 
speech  was  quickly  visited  upon  him. 


150  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

"  As  if  you  could  n't  see  !  "  She  sighed.  "  I 
found  out  long  ago  that  I  must  make  my  way 
alone.  All  the  effort,  all  the  struggle,  you  leave 
to  me.  I  am  the  one  that  has  to  make  a  place 
in  the  world  for  this  family." 

John  Hathaway  did  not  groan  and  did  not 
bury  his  face  in  his  hands,  but  his  smile  meant 
the  same  thing.  He  spoke  gently,  and  clumsily 
supposed  that  he  had  changed  the  subject. 
"  Sue,  I  wish  you  would  manage  to  ask  young 
Austen  up  here  to  supper  Sunday  night,  or 
something  of  the  sort.  We  have  just  taken  him 
into  the  office,  you  know.  He  is  a  stranger  in 
the  city.  I  should  be  glad  to  have  him  know  a 
home  to  drop  into  occasionally." 

"  How  much  do  you  pay  him  ?  " 

"  Twelve  hundred  a  year." 

"  Is  there  money  in  the  family  ?  " 

"  We  knew  his  people  years  ago.  lie  is  of 
good  stock :  there  has  n't  been  a  black  sheep  in 
the  family  for  generations.  They  are  a  good 
family,  but  land-poor." 

"Don't  bring  him  here,  John.  He  will  be 
falling  in  love  with  Grace." 

"  Nonsense  !     Grace  has  n't  such  ideas." 

"Hasn't  she?"  It  was  Mrs.  Hathaway's 
turn  to  pity  dullness. 

"  What  if  he  does  fall  in  love  with  her  ? 
He  's  a  capital  fellow." 


IN  WHICH  NOTHING  HAPPENS.         151 

"  Twelve  hundred  a  year  !  He  ought  not  to 
think  of  marrying1.  What  a  fate  to  subject  a 
girl  to  who  has  been  used  to  everything !  No 
young  man  ought  to  dream  of  marrying  on  such 
an  income." 

"  Do  you  women  know  what  you  are  saying  ?  " 
said  her  husband  sternly. 

"  Oh,  pshaw,  John  !  " 

"  Well,  ask  him  up  here,  and  I  '11  see  to  en 
tertaining  him.  We  won't  risk  Grace." 

"  Grace  is  full  of  romantic  notions.  What 
does  she  know  about  the  seriousness  of  mar 
riage  ?  She  thinks  it 's  taking  hold  of  hands  and 
running  across  a  meadow.  I  believe  she  would 
jump  at  love  in  a  cottage,  —  love  in  a  flat  on  a 
top  floor,  that  is." 

"  Good  for  Grace  !  " 

This  brought  the  conversation  round  once 
more  to  precisely  the  point  where  Hathaway 
had  broken  it  off. 

"  I  suppose  you  can't  be  expected  to  take  the 
same  interest  in  your  children  that  I  do,  John ; 
but  it  is  a  little  hard  "  —  and  so  on  till  they  rose 
from  the  table.  Hathaway  went  into  the  hall, 
and  took  down  his  overcoat.  He  felt  cross, 
he  said  to  himself,  and  wanted  to  walk  it  off. 
His  interest  in  his  children,  —  what  had  he  in 
life  but  that  ?  What  was  the  toil  of  his  long 
day  but  that  ?  What  was  his  dread  of  the  f  u- 


152  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

ture  but  that?  That  dread  of  the  future  had 
for  years  expressed  itself  in  the  heavy  life  insur 
ance  he  carried,  —  carried,  indeed,  like  a  pack 
upon  his  shoulders.  Now  that  the  whirring  in 
his  head  had  become  persistent,  there  had  been 
savage  satisfaction  in  the  high  premium  that  had 
been  maintained  from  one  straining  year  to  the 
next.  His  interest  in  his  children  and  his  hope 
for  them  had  been,  first  of  all,  that  their  life 
should  be  different  from  their  father's.  Details 
of  training  had,  however,  given  way  before  the 
care  of  providing  for  them  materially.  The  day- 
laborer,  so  exhausted  with  his  toil  that  he  can 
not  play  with  his  children,  —  so  John  Hathaway 
saw  himself,  and  knew  that  he  was  dull,  nerve 
less,  and  uninterested.  That  it  appeared  so  to 
himself  was  the  irony  of  circumstances.  No  man 
sought  fewer  distractions  outside  his  home  ;  no 
man,  apparently,  was  less  to  his  home.  He  was 
not  a  man  to  be  missed  much,  in  any  quarter, 
he  thought  grimly.  The  life  insurance  would 
be  more  than  an  equivalent.  The  mill-wheel  in 
his  brain  was  at  full  speed  to-night,  and  his 
thoughts  had  their  gloomiest  cast.  Heart  of  lead 
and  brain  of  fire,  nerves  racked  as  in  a  torture- 
chamber —  such  was  the  crossness  of  which  he 
complained.  All  the  time  he  was  walking  down 
ward  and  eastward  in  the  direction  of  Van  Hatten 
Park.  There  lay  comfort  and  comprehension  ; 


IN  WHICH  NOTHING  HAPPENS.         153 

behind  him  blindness  and  frustration.  He  did 
not  reason  or  analyze,  much  less  did  he  moralize. 
He  had  the  simple  desire  that  Charlotte  should 
look  into  his  eyes  and  say,  "  I  know  ;  I  see."  He 
walked  011  without  question  or  condemnation 
of  this  yearning.  It  was  the  natural  climax  of 
the  past  three  months,  in  which  the  sight  of  Char 
lotte  had  come  to  be  the  one  fair  outlook  of  an 
imprisoned  life.  She  was  air  and  sunlight  to  his 
mind.  Her  large  sympathies  gave  him  space  to 
breathe  and  room  to  move  with  natural  freedom. 
He  could  recover  his  whole  self,  lost  for  many 
years.  They  met  in  simple  friendliness,  and  of- 
tenest  under  his  own  roof.  Never  a  sign  had 
passed  between  them  disloyal  to  the  situation, 
yet  a  silent  confidence  had  grown  upon  them 
steadily.  To-night  a  change  had  come  over  John 
Hathaway,  —  a  mad  desire  to  touch  the  truth 
once,  though  it  were  to  be  left  unspoken  ever 
after.  Sick  in  mind  and  body,  he  desired  to 
say,  "  I  am  an  unhappy  man."  He  fancied  that 
one  confession  would  satisfy  him,  and  that  one 
look  from  Charlotte  would  suffice,  —  not  measur 
ing  the  temptation  that  assailed  him. 

The  way  was  long,  but  Hathaway  walked  rap 
idly.  His  mind  acted  oddly.  Underneath  lay 
the  heavy  consciousness  of  self,  but  there  was 
sharp  observation  of  the  passing  scene.  It  was 
the  hour  of  bright,  gay  hurrying  to  pleasure,  and 


154  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

the  lights  of  the  carriages,  the  glimpses  of  white- 
cloaked  women,  even  the  couples  upon  the  side 
walk,  opera-glasses  in  hand,  made  up  a  world 
which  John  Hathaway  looked  at  as  if  he  were 
observing  it  through  a  telescope.  It  was  not 
this  world,  that  is,  his  world  ;  for  his  mood  sees 
nothing  real  save  suffering,  and  forgets  that  there 
is  also  "  truth  "  in  joy  and  beauty. 

He  turned  into  Van  Hatten  Park,  and  caught 
the  light  in  Charlotte  Coverdale's  windows.  He 
walked  more  slowly,  and  before  he  knew  it  he 
had  taken  the  longer  way  around  the  Park.  It 
was  not  reason  and  not  conscience  that  had  been 
roused  in  him.  To  deal  justly  with  John  Hath 
away,  it  must  be  said  that  it  was  not  the  folly  or 
the  wrong  that  arrested  him,  nor  was  it  loyalty 
to  his  wife  or  to  his  own  character.  He  might 
have  distinguished  clearly  enough  next  day  what 
he  had  sacrificed ;  but  if  he  had  thought  of  that 
now,  he  was  in  a  mood  to  make  the  sacrifice  and 
take  the  consequences.  He  was  not  weighing 
right  and  wrong,  as  he  drew  near  the  home  of 
Charlotte.  But  there  arose  before  him  her  im 
age  :  he  saw  her  eyes,  from  which  he  had  learned 
to  draw  peace  ;  he  heard  her  voice,  in  which  was 
the  law  of  kindness  ;  he  felt  her  presence,  so 
warmly  human,  so  tender-womanly,  yet  rising 
clear  and  pure  in  angelic  rectitude.  This  was 
not  Charlotte  as  she  knew  herself  in  her  own 


IN   WHICH  NOTHING  HAPPENS.          155 

heart,  in  the  secret  confessional  where  she  told 
herself  her  faults.  The  image  before  John  Hath 
away  was,  however,  as  true  as  any  outward  view 
of  character  can  be. 

Peace  and  friendship  he  had  found,  and  blame 
lessly.  Should  he  pass  the  line  of  freedom  and 
good-will  by  going  to  her  to-night  ?  There  was 
supreme  comfort  in  her  presence,  but  it  was  com 
fort  not  for  him.  That  it  might  be  for  another 
gave  him  pain  which  should  have  sufficed  for 
warning.  But  it  was  the  vision  of  Charlotte, 
alone,  and  no  reasoning  process,  that  arrested 
him.  That  was  not  the  woman  to  be  wronged 
by  such  a  confession.  He  turned  sharply  upon 
himself  and  reproached  his  unmanliness.  Stung 
with  his  own  scorn,  he  crossed  to  the  opposite 
pavement  and  walked  rapidly  up  town.  Thus 
are  the  decisions  of  the  street-corners  the  mate 
rials  of  a  soul's  history. 

John  Hathaway  took  his  way  homeward,  shift 
ing  and  settling  his  burden  as  he  went.  He 
walked  steadily  under  it  when  he  once  more  en 
tered  his  house. 

"  Is  your  headache  better,  John  ? "  his  wife 
asked  kindly.  "  A  walk  in  the  open  air  "  — 

"  Clears  the  brain.     Yes." 

The  wholesome  commonplace  was  restored, 
and  Hathaway  took  his  usual  place  by  the  even 
ing  lamp.  He  read  a  French  novel  till  bedtime. 


156  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

Shall  we  ask  after  Charlotte,  in  the  mean  time  ? 
She  did  know  and  did  see,  more  fully  than  John 
Hathaway  dreamed.  She  perceived,  with  tender 
ness  and  dismay,  that  he  looked  to  her  more  and 
more  for  something  that  she  longed  and  feared 
to  give.  The  temptation  to  sympathy  is  the 
subtlest  that  can  attack  a  woman.  Charlotte 
felt  pity  undermining  her  resolve.  She  was, 
moreover,  assailed  by  another  approach  ;  she 
would  not  have  been  woman  had  she  not  felt  the 
temptation  of  power.  She  saw  moments,  —  dis 
tinct  in  her  memory,  —  moments  which  had  been 
hers  for  good  or  for  evil.  John  Hathaway  had 
passed  them  in  unconsciousness,  but  the  woman's 
divination  had  sounded  the  alarm.  She  fell  to 
brooding  over  the  discovery,  and  was  appalled 
to  find  herself  in  moral  confusion.  She  had 
made  the  sort  of  mistake  about  herself  that  girls 
dismissing  their  schoolbooks  are  wont  to  fall 
into :  she  had  supposed  that  her  moral  education 
was  complete.  She  found  that  there  were  pain 
ful  lessons  still  for  her  to  learn.  All  her  blame 
was  for  herself,  and  unsparing  blame  it  was. 
She  examined  her  own  conduct,  and  reckoned 
her  mistakes.  She  would  hear  nothing  from 
herself  in  her  defense.  The  very  pity  that  welled 
in  her  heart  seemed,  to  her  stern  judgment,  the 
invasion  of  a  home.  There  would  come  moments 
in  which  the  control  of  her  emotions  was  so 


IN  WHICH  NOTHING  HAPPENS.         157 

relaxed  that  the  punishment  she  put  upon  herself 
had  no  effect.  Joy  in  her  power  beset  her  with 
its  temptation,  and  whispered  specious  words 
from  below.  She  would  start  away  from  herself 
in  terror,  and  in  humiliation  too  profound  to  be 
expressed  in  spirit  alone.  With  bowed  head  and 
hidden  face,  she  bent  before  her  self -accusation ; 
she  rose  with  new  knowledge  of  the  struggle  of 
good  and  evil,  with  startled  insight  into  the  dis 
integration  of  character  that  comes  from  love 
unblessed. 

Charlotte  had  a  second  discovery  to  make. 
Harm  she  had  done  to  others,  —  that  was  clear 
to  her ;  but  she  found  that  harm  had  also  been 
done  to  herself.  Her  serenity  had  been  shat 
tered  ;  a  baleful  self -consciousness  had  risen  in 
her ;  restlessness  had  invaded  her  daily  life.  She 
tried  to  remember  that  time  when  the  future  lay 
level  and  accessible  before  her.  She  had  left 
that  high  table-land,  and  had  descended  into  a 
difficult  pass. 

Just  at  this  time  John  Hathaway  turned  away 
from  her,  and  it  happened  naturally  enough,  as 
it  appeared,  that  she  did  not  see  him  for  many 
days.  She  was  never  to  know  that  her  power 
had  indeed  been  tested.  She  tried  to  be  glad  of 
Hathaway's  absence,  yet  the  fact  that  she  missed 
him  revealed  to  her  the  real  loneliness  of  her 
life.  She  fell  into  self-pity,  —  with  Charlotte 


158  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

Coverdale  the  most  morbid  of  symptoms.  There 
was  nothing-  to  be  done ;  and  the  passive  was 
always  difficult  to  her,  and  dangerous  to  her 
health  of  mind.  She  could  do  nothing,  was  her 
sad  reflection:  she  could  do  nothing-  but  dedi 
cate  herself  to  friendship  for  John  Hathaway's 
children,  and  in  that  way  henceforth  be  best 
a  friend  to  him.  Ned  had  long  ago  constituted 
himself  Charlotte's  cavalier.  She  liked  him, 
partly  for  himself  and  partly  for  his  boy's  world  ; 
while  Ned  liked  cousin  Charlotte  because  she 
took  him  seriously,  and  treated  him  as  an  equal 
and  contemporary.  The  lad  was  passing  out  of 
the  intensely  real  world  of  boyhood  into  a  new 
world  of  thoughts  and  dreams,  and  fortunate  it 
was  for  him  that  Charlotte  Coverdale  was  at 
hand.  Ned  and  his  father  were  on  excellent 
terms,  boys  together  or  men  together,  as  it  hap 
pened  ;  but  the  truth  was  that  they  saw  but  little 
of  each  other. 

"  Ned,"  said  Charlotte,  "  could  n't  you  help 
your  father  at  his  office  now  and  then  ?  " 

The  sight  of  the  boy's  head  over  by  the  win 
dow  did  Hathaway  good,  and  the  ride  home  on 
the  elevated  railroad  was  not  the  same  piece 
of  dogged  endurance  when  the  lad  sat  by  his 
father. 

"  That 's  right,  Ned,"  said  Charlotte,  "  don't 
let  your  father  get  too  tired." 


IN  WHICH  NOTHING  HAPPENS.         159 

Ned  looked  solemn,  and  accepted  the  respon 
sibility. 

One  result  of  tlie  boy's  visits  to  the  office  was 
an  intimacy  with  young  Austen,  who  took  a 
fancy  to  the  little  fellow.  It  was  through  Ned's 
entreaties  that  Austen  was  finally  invited  to 
Sunday  night  tea. 

As  for  little  Patty,  she  could  do  nothing  bet 
ter  for  her  father  than  climb  into  his  lap  and 
put  her  arms  about  his  neck  with  the  close,  soft 
clasp  that  filled  him  with  comfort.  Patty  was  a 
child  of  few  words,  but  of  resolute  affectionate- 
ness.  "  She  likes  to  have  me.  She  likes  to  have 
me  hug  her  tight,"  said  Patty,  when  Charlotte 
was  defended  from  her  caresses.  Patty,  how 
ever,  was  not  without  discrimination. 

Charlotte  saw  her  cousin  frequently,  and  the 
two  women  touched  often  upon  the  topic  of 
John's  health.  If  Sue's  devotion  and  anxiety  in 
speaking  about  her  husband  could  have  been 
equaled  by  her  tenderness  in  his  presence,  their 
life  might  have  been  happier. 

The  weeks  passed  on,  bearing  on  their  surface 
a  record  very  different  from  that  chronicled  here. 
This  was  a  record  of  multiplying  social  engage 
ments,  in  which  Charlotte  sought  diversion  from 
the  sad  thoughts  that  haunted  her.  She  found 
it  for  the  moment,  but  the  gayety  of  a  bright 
company  had  no  staying  quality.  She  looked  to 


1GO  THE  PET1UE  ESTATE. 

the  old  stable  pleasures  of  her  former  life,  chief 
among  them  books  and  music.  Her  experience 
of  books  in  New  York  had  been  striking.  She 
had  felt  an  impetus  in  her  reading  that  was  not 
quite  calm  and  healthy.  Charlotte  found  her 
essay  or  her  novel  more  eagerly  suggestive  than 
she  could  bear,  with  all  life  lying  about  her  for 
illustration.  She  envied  her  aunt  her  placid 
biographies,  with  the  orderly  bookmark.  Under 
the  stress  of  emotion,  Charlotte  turned  to  books. 
Feeling  confined  her  in  narrow  spaces  where 
there  was  not  breath  or  air ;  she  sought  the  open 
of  the  intellectual  life.  It  was  a  sign  to  her  of 
misfortune  that  books,  in  her  present  mood, 
appeared  to  her  elusive  and  incoherent.  She 
craved  music.  She  would  be  lapped  in  the 
melting  tenderness  of  a  Chopin  nocturne,  in  a 
luxury  of  sweet  pain ;  or  a  Beethoven  sonata 
would  possess  and  sway  her  with  its  profound 
appeal.  Still  she  found  no  rest  in  books  or 
music,  —  she  who  had  been  so  healthy  and  ra 
tional  in  all  her  pleasures,  so  certain  of  her 
hold  on  happiness.  She  reached  a  point  of  weak 
ness  at  which  she  was  ready  to  accept  her  un 
rest  as  the  natural  fate,  and  but  part  of  the 
general  sadness. 

Mrs.  Bisbee  took  Charlotte  to  task  with  char 
acteristic  energy.  "  My  dear,  this  New  York 
winter  is  wearing  upon  you.  You  are  working 


IN  WHICH  NOTHING  HAPPENS.         101 

too  hard  among  those  people  of  yours  down 
town." 

"  It  is  the  best  happiness  I  have,"  said  Char 
lotte  with  truth. 

"  You  need  a  new  interest ;  an  interest  of 
your  own,  an  entirely  selfish  one.  I  wonder 
where  that  lover  is  !  " 

"  Don't  say  such  things,  Mrs.  Bisbee." 

"  It 's  all  very  well  to  keep  happy  by  making 
other  people  happy.  It 's  more  than  half  sad 
when  a  young  life  has  come  to  that." 

"  I  have  a  great  deal  to  make  me  happy,"  said 
Charlotte,  with  a  droop  of  the  mouth.  "  I  never 
in  my  life  had  so  much  to  make  me  happy." 
And  at  that  a  tear  came. 

When,  long  after,  Charlotte  looked  back,  the 
winter's  experience  fell  into  place,  and  had  its 
meaning. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

AN    INTERVIEW. 

CHARLOTTE  Co VERD ALE'S  life  was  crowded 
with  people,  many  of  whom  merely  passed  and 
repassed  her  ;  others  came  closer,  and  gave  or 
received.  Charlotte,  by  nature,  entered  quickly 
into  other  lives  ;  "  got  mixed  up  with  all  sorts 
of  people,"  as  her  cousin  Sue  expressed  it.  She 
moved  about  in  the  human  comedy,  in  contact 
with  a  wide  range  of  characters,  and  playing 
many  parts  herself.  In  contrast  with  her  for 
mer  quiet  life,  she  appeared  to  be  always  now 
upon  the  scene,  involved  in  some  one's  joy  or 
sorrow.  She  exulted  in  the  sense  of  other  lives 
keeping  time  with  her  own.  Her  heart  beat 
high  to  the  thought  that  her  days  were  bound 
up  with  the  multitudinous  life  of  the  great  city. 
She  had  a  share  in  many  experiences  not  re 
corded  here,  and  was  known  to  many  people  who 
took  no  part  in  that  story  we  are  following. 
The  fullness  of  her  life  is  not  to  be  lost  sight 
of,  however,  in  the  solitude  in  which  we  often 
find  her. 

In  the  company  of   people    that    she    moved 


AN  INTERVIEW.  163 

among,  Richard  Waring  had  remained  in  the 
crowd.  What  she  heard  of  him  from  the  Hath- 
aways  only  served  to  confuse  her  impression 
of  him,  whether  it  was  Grace's  romantic  ver 
sion,  or  Mrs.  Ilathaway's  mention  of  him  as  a 
person  whom  it  was  a  kindness  to  invite  to  Sun 
day  night  tea.  Charlotte  and  Waring  had  met 
several  times  since  the  evening  at  Mrs.  Apple- 
by's,  but  always  in  the  presence  of  the  Hathaway 
family  with  more  or  less  effort  of  adaptability 
on  all  sides.  At  such  times  various  neutralizing 
influences  were  also  at  work  to  diminish  the  in 
terest  of  each  in  the  other.  Waring' s  evident 
devotion  to  Grace,  and  the  young  girl's  flower- 
like,  involuntary  turning  to  him,  put  a  limit  to 
Charlotte's  thought  of  him.  No  doubt,  as  she 
observed  them,  there  was  in  her  feeling  a  dash 
of  feminine  pique,  as  there  was  also  a  requiem 
for  her  own  youth,  past  and  gone.  Yet  no  one, 
if  called  upon  for  an  opinion,  would  have  more 
generously  approved  the  relation  between  Grace 
and  Waring.  Under  his  influence,  all  the  en 
folded  possibilities  of  Grace's  nature  bade  fair 
to  open  in  a  beautiful  bloom  ;  while  for  Waring 
himself,  what  better  thing  could  there  be  than 
the  grace  and  devotion  of  this  lovable  girl  ? 

Waring  had  an  aesthetic  appreciation  of 
Charlotte's  presence.  A  dozen  years  earlier  he 
might  have  indulged  in  a  six  weeks'  rhapsody, 


104  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

had  he  met  a  woman  with  that  smile  upon  those 
lips.  But  life  was  not  now  so  simple.  The 
subject  of  the  Petrie  estate  was  repugnant  to 
him  ;  and  Miss  Coverdale  inevitably  suggested 
that  freak  of  fortune.  Though  without  surli 
ness  or  envy,  "Waring  preferred  to  go  his  way, 
and  to  leave  on  one  side  that  troublesome  topic 
and  all  connected  with  it.  That  a  good  and 
beautiful  woman  had  come  between  him  and 
his  fortune  ought,  perhaps,  to  be  a  mitigating 
circumstance  ;  but  as  a  fact  it  did  little  to  alter 
the  soreness  of  James  Petrie's  memory.  Char 
lotte,  in  her  complete  assumption  of  her  part, 
appeared  to  him  to  have  filled  out  the  story  and 
to  have  brought  it  to  a  close.  They  were  as  far 
removed  from  each  other  as  it  was  possible  for 
two  people  to  be,  who  sat  chatting  under  the 
sovereignty  of  one  hostess.  He  looked  at  her 
as  remotely  and  impersonally  as  he  might  have 
followed  a  heroine  through  his  opera-glass. 

Moreover,  he  was  observing  his  friend  Hath 
away,  and  he  saw  something  which  he  did  not 
altogether  like,  and  for  which  he  held  Charlotte 
Coverdale  responsible.  He  said  briefly  to  him 
self  that  he  did  not  fancy  that  sort  of  woman. 
He  had  a  distaste  for  that  variety  of  flirtation  ; 
a  gentleman  did  not  need  to  go  so  far  as  moral 
indignation.  Yet  he  was  no  sooner  in  Char 
lotte's  presence  than  he  felt  his  injustice  to  the 


AN  INTERVIEW.  165 

woman  who  looked  out  from  those  pure,  faith 
ful  eyes.  Or  should  he  warn  himself  that  this 
might  be  the  most  subtle  coquette  of  all  ? 

At  all  events,  it  was  not  until  he  found  it  in 
the  direct  line  of  his  duty  that  Waring  ap 
proached  nearer  to  Charlotte  Coverdale.  The 
last  time  they  had  met,  he  had  said  to  her, 
"  Miss  Coverdale,  I  am  anxious  to  learn  some 
thing  about  your  tenement-house  reforms.  You 
are  the  best  source  of  information.  Could  you 
give  me  a  half  hour?  Or  do  you  object  to  the 
interviewer  ?  " 

A  few  evenings  later,  Waring's  card  was 
brought  to  her.  "  The  Citizen,"  engraved  in 
the  corner,  gave  his  visit  an  impersonal  and 
business  character.  Charlotte  laid  down  the 
card  listlessly,  then  took  it  up  again  and  looked 
at  it. 

"  Show  Mr.  Waring  into  the  "  —  she  hesi 
tated  —  "  into  the  library." 

She  altered  a  hairpin  and  took  a  delicate 
handkerchief  from  a  drawer,  then  went  down 
stairs. 

Charlotte  wore  an  indoor  dress,  which  made 
Waring  somehow  conscious  that  he  was  seeing 
her  in  a  new  character.  It  seemed  to  blend  her 
with  her  home,  and  to  give  her  an  air  of  repose 
and  ownership.  It  was  manifestly  unfit  for  mid 
day  activities,  and  dedicated  her  to  the  graces 


1G6  THE  PETR1E  ESTATE. 

of  home.  Her  dress  was  to  "Waring's  eye  a  rich 
confusion  of  red ;  but  if  the  details  were  lost 
upon  him,  he  could  still  be  trusted  to  take  the 
impression  and  harmonize  it  with  the  wearer. 

"  Have  you  seen  the  llathaways  to-day?  "  was 
the  commonplace  with  which  they  began. 

"  Mrs.  Hathaway  and  I  were  shopping  to 
gether  this  morning,"  Charlotte  replied. 

"  Hathaway  is  looking  badly.  I  fear  there  is 
something  serious." 

Charlotte  shook  her  head  sadly. 

Waring's  next  remark  was,  "  I  am  glad  you 
have  taken  hold  of  Grace.  They  ought  not  to 
spoil  that  girl.  Grace  has  stuff  in  her." 

Charlotte  was  perplexed  ;  this  was  a  style 
more  energetic  than  lover-like. 

"  You  are  right  to  put  some  Latin  into  her. 
She  will  bear  a  good  deal  of  that  sort  of  thing, 
without  any  danger  of  the  blue-stocking.  I  am 
conservative  enough,  but  I  like  to  see  a  girl  like 
Grace  Hathaway  get  the  right  point  of  view,  — 
see  straight.  I  should  be  glad  of  it  for  her 
father's  sake." 

Charlotte  wondered  still  more. 

"I  am  sorry  for  Hathaway."  Waring  paused, 
with  feeling.  "He  is  breaking  down,  —  and  not 
much  over  forty.  He  has  n't  got  out  of  life  what 
he  ought  to.  You  and  I  know  them  so  well,  we 
can  say  as  much  as  that." 


AN  INTERVIEW.  167 

"  Ah,  yes  !  " 

"  I  knew  him  twenty  years  ago.  He  was  full 
of  life  then.  I  never  saw  a  young  fellow  more 
eager  for  his  plunge.  But  circiimstances  have 
been  too  much  for  him.  He  has  gone  under, 
poor  fellow !  " 

Charlotte  could  only  reply  in  sympathetic 
monosyllables. 

"  I  take  great  comfort  in  Ned  and  Patty," 
she  said  at  length. 

"  They  are  a  first-rate  little  pair,  are  n't 
they?" 

"  Their  devotion  to  each  other  is  the  pretti 
est  sight  I  know.  It  makes  me  feel  all  I  have 
missed  in  not  having  a  brother." 

Waring  found  himself  watching  the  play  of 
expression  upon  Charlotte's  face.  He  caught 
the  shifting  lights  and  shadows  :  the  open  light 
upon  her  features  would  vanish  away  into  her 
deep  eyes,  and  her  face  would  grow  sombre  and 
thoughtful.  Then  the  light  would  appear  again 
at  her  eyes,  and  would  glance  across  her  lips 
and  break  into  a  smile.  The  play  of  expres 
sion  in  her  voice  he  also  followed.  In  the  give 
and  take  of  conversation,  Charlotte  did  her  full 
share;  but  the  best  tilings  she  said  were  elo 
quent  monosyllables,  thrown  in  as  she  listened. 

"  You  may  not  know  that  our  paper  has  taken 
up  this  subject,"  Waring  was  presently  saying ; 


168  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

"  has  gone  into  it  with  a  good  deal  of  energy. 
We  are  rather  committed  to  it,  in  fact." 

"  I  have  read  it  all,"  said  Charlotte. 

"  Have  you,  indeed  ?  Well,  then,  you  know 
the  line  we  are  taking." 

Waring  bent  to  business,  and  recapitulated 
briefly. 

"  Those  are  the  ideas  I  have  been  trying  to 
carry  out,"  said  Charlotte,  also  in  her  business 
tone.  The  sentiment  of  Keyser  Street  was 
quite  in  abeyance  with  both. 

"  Will  you  tell  me?  Will  you  answer  my 
questions  ?  The  practical  application  of  our 
principles  is  just  what  we  have  wanted  to  get 
at." 

"  I  have  never  been  interviewed  before.  Pray 
deal  gently  with  me,"  Charlotte  smiled  back  at 
him. 

They  went  to  work  in  earnest.  Waring's 
questions  were  searching  and  productive  ;  Char 
lotte's  replies  had  the  merit  of  being  answers  to 
these  questions  and  not  answers  to  any  others. 
Each  recognized  the  other's  mind,  and  felt  the 
charm  and  elation  of  the  encounter. 

The  facts  elicited  need  not  be  reported  here, 
since  they  formed  the  substance  of  articles  pub 
lished  soon  after  in  the  "  Citizen."  At  the  end 
of  their  talk,  Waring,  having  a  single  eye  to 
the  interests  of  his  paper,  put  up  his  note-book 


AN  INTERVIEW.  169 

and  besought  Miss  Coverdale  herself  to  write 
the  proposed  articles.  But  this  she  refused 
to  do. 

"  I  am  not  literary.  I  cannot  say  things  as 
they  should  be  said." 

"  You  do  them,  instead.     I  see." 

Both  were  right.  Charlotte  Coverdale  wrote 
a  good  letter  if  she  loved  the  person  she  ad 
dressed  ;  the  moment  the  personal  element  was 
lacking,  she  became  stilted.  She  knew  this,  and 
dropped  her  pen.  Where  the  literary  instinct 
is  to  put  into  words,  as  Waring  perceived,  it 
was  her  instinct  to  put  into  acts. 

"  I  may  have  to  run  down  there,"  he  con 
tinued. 

"Do  come.  I  am  there  on  Tuesday  and  Fri 
day  mornings." 

"  And  now  will  you  answer  one  more  ques 
tion  ?  Does  it  pay  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  I  fear  that  I  get  more  out  of  it 
than  any  one  else,"  said  Charlotte,  smiling 
frankly.  "  For  the  people,"  she  proceeded 
carefully,  "  I  think  it  means  this,  —  that  is,  if 
we  are  talking  now  about  the  sentiment  of  the 
thing?" 

"  Man  does  not  live  by  bread  alone." 

"  It  means  that  we  become  business  friends 
instead  of  business  enemies.  The  first  thing  to 
establish  is  that  there  is  mutiTal  interest  and 


170  THE  PETE  IE  ESTATE. 

benefit.  You  have  no  idea  what  a  care  of 
me  my  people  have.  The  women  give  me  good 
advice  on  every  sort  of  subject."  Charlotte 
laughed  to  herself  as  she  remembered  some  mo 
therly  advice  about  matrimony  which  she  had 
that  day  received.  Waring  smiled  at  her  gay 
little  laugh,  and  felt  twenty  years  older  than 
she. 

"  You  should  see  the  presents  I  have !  Would 
you  like  to  see  some  of  my  presents  ?  " 

"By  all  means."  And  Charlotte  half  glee 
fully,  half  tenderly  produced  from  a  cabinet  a 
pair  of  vases,  various  small  baskets  and  boxes 
of  home  decoration,  and  a  crocheted  hood  of  a 
poisonous  pink. 

Charlotte  looked  at  Waring,  without  com 
ment  ;  and  a  tear  filled  her  eye.  She  quickly 
smiled  it  away,  but  the  tear  had  been  a  confi 
dence,  and  it  placed  them  on  a  different  foot 
ing  ;  else  Charlotte  could  not  have  said,  "  Yes,  it 
pays.  Sometimes  it  seems  the  surest  way  to  be 
happy." 

"  Are  you  certain  that  that 's  altogether  a 
healthy  view  of  it  ?  " 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  moment.  Sooner 
or  later  they  were  certain  to  discuss  the  prob 
lem  of  happiness,  but  there  was  a  sense  on  the 
part  of  both  that  they  had  not  yet  reached  that 
milestone  of  intimacy. 


AN  INTERVIEW.  171 

"  There  is  a  great  amount  of  sociability 
among  ns  in  Keyser  Street,"  said  Charlotte. 

"  How  about  your  visits  to  them  ?  " 

"  Oh,  there  is  always  the  scouring  of  a  chair, 
and  the  offer  of  some  refreshment,  —  generally 
from  a  bottle.  Their  idea  of  hospitality  is  some 
thing  that  will  pop.  But  I  have  even  been  of 
fered  pie." 

"  What  did  you  do  ?     You  did  n't  eat  it  ?  " 

"  I  never  '11  tell !  " 

Waring  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  like 
a  boy. 

"  I  hope  you  will  be  interested  in  the  new 
house  I  am  beginning  to  build  on  the  next 
block,"  said  Charlotte,  "  with  the  kindergarten 
room  and  the  free  baths  and  laundries." 

Waring  showed  no  lack  of  interest.  "  Do 
you  give  away  much  money  among  these  people  ? 
May  I  ask  that  ?" 

"  No  ;  I  take  a  great  deal  of  their  money,  on 
the  other  hand.  I  have  a  bank,  among  other 
things.  I  have  spent  a  large  amount  of  money 
on  the  house,  and  have  greatly  reduced  the  in 
come  of  the  property,  but  I  have  spent  no  more 
than  the  tenants  had  a  right  to,  considering  the 
rent  they  pay." 

Waring  perceived  that  Miss  Coverdale's  social 
theories  were  simple,  as  she  herself  was  aware. 

"  It  is  yourself  you  give,  then." 


172  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

"  Yes,  if  you  put  it  sentimentally.  I  thought 
the  '  Citizen  '  never  did  that." 

"  There  is  no  help  for  it  occasionally.  Sen 
timent,  or  something  you  have  to  call  by  that 
name,  is  at  the  heart  of  the  whole  matter." 

"  But  I  don't  know,"  Charlotte  continued, 
"  that  I  give  more  of  myself  to  them  than  one 
gives  in  any  of  the  ordinary  relations  of  life. 
It  seems  human  and  natural  enough  when  I  am 
with  them.  I  thought  it  would  be  hard  to  es 
tablish  communication  between  us.  At  first  I 
felt  the  same  sort  of  interest  that  I  should  have 
had  in  reading  about  them.  You  remember 
how  Tolstoi  complains  of  his  society  acquaint 
ances  when  he  took  them  to  see  the  poor  of 
Moscow.  They  all  cried  out,  to  a  man,  '  C'est 
tres-interessant ! '  That  was  my  helpless  atti 
tude  precisely.  But  I  found  out  how  quickly 
you  can  come  near  to  people  of  the  simpler  sort. 
We,  in  our  sphere,  are  much  longer  in  recogniz 
ing  each  other." 

"  True  indeed,"  said  Waring,  thinking  of  the 
three  months  that  had  passed  since  he  first  met 
Miss  Coverdale. 

"  My  business  relation  to  my  people  helped 
me  very  much.  It  kept  me  from  intrusion  upon 
them,  and  gave  me,  for  my  own  self-respect,  a 
raison  d'etre." 

"Do  you  find,  Miss  Coverdale,  that  you  can 


AN  INTERVIEW.  173 

alter  their  point  of  view?  Make  them  discon 
tented  with  their  lot  ?  " 

"  Not  so  soon  ;  that  will  take  years.  If  only 
I  can  be  given  years,  I  have  great  hope."  She 
looked  at  him  with  such  radiance  of  faith  and 
courage  that  he  could  not  have  doubted  her 
power  to  work  miracles. 

Suddenly  Charlotte  changed  the  subject. 
"  Do  you  remember,  Mr.  Waring,  our  talk  about 
my  cousin  James  Petrie  ?  I  hoped  you  might 
like  some  books  of  his  that  were  left  with  me. 
Will  you  not  look  at  them  ?  It  would  be  a  pleas- 
sure  to  me  to  feel  that  you  had  something  that 
was  his."  Charlotte  spoke  simply,  determined 
to  put  aside  the  uneasy  consciousness  that  had 
warned  her  away  from  this  subject  once  before. 
She  crossed  the  room  to  the  bookcases.  As  he 
followed  her,  Waring  felt  in  all  its  force  their 
singular  relation  to  each  other.  He  never  paid 
to  Charlotte  a  higher  tribute  than  in  walking- 

O  O 

proudly  after  her.  It  was  one  of  the  moments 
when  both  rose  superior  to  the  situation.  Such 
moments  were  brief  :  sorrow  and  struggle  lay 
before  both  the  man  and  the  woman  before  they 
were  securely  above  and  out  of  reach  of  circum 
stances. 

"  These  were  cousin  James  Petrie's  books," 
said  Charlotte,  "  a  few  that  he  had  by  him  in 
his  last  days  at  the  hospital." 


174  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE, 

"  Ah,  his  Boswell !  "  exclaimed  Waring.  "  I 
remember  when  he  bought  that  in  London.  It 
is  a  good  copy  —  a  fair  page  and  fine  margins, 
and  a  leather  binding  to  weather  the  next  five 
centuries."  He  took  down  a  volume,  and 
mused  over  it.  Charlotte  noticed  in  him,  and 
liked  it,  that  he  stopped  to  think  whenever  he 
felt  inclined  ;  also,  that,  having  said  a  thing,  he 
had  the  art  of  letting  it  alone.  The  simplicity 
and  frankness  of  his  silences  attracted  her  :  she 
was  responsive  to  them  and  said  nothing. 

There  was  a  peaceful  murmur  of  the  fire,  most 
intimate  and  indoor  of  sounds.  Without,  the  dull 
roar  of  the  city  but  served  to  shut  in  Charlotte's 
library,  and  to  make  it  a  spot  remote  and  still. 

"  He  never  lost  appetite  for  his  Boswell,"  said 
Waring,  as  he  returned  the  book  to  its  place  ; 
"  and  what  was  more,  he  never  forgave  anybody 
who  did.  Love  me,  love  my  books  —  that  was 
James  Petrie." 

"  I  am  like  him,  then,"  said  Charlotte. 

"  I  am  not  sure  but  I  am,  too." 

"  Then  you  will  let  me  send  you  the  Boswell, 
will  you  not  ?  "  Charlotte  begged  him. 

He  thanked  her,  and  then  they  wandered  to 
other  shelves,  and  spoke  no  more  of  James  Pe 
trie.  Looking  over  books  in  company  draws 
people  together  or  drives  them  apart :  it  never 
leaves  them  quite  where  it  found  them.  War- 


AN  INTERVIEW.  175 

ing  took  down  volume  after  volume,  with  greet- 
in^  and  recognition  as  of  friends  in  the  flesh. 

O  o 

A  book-lover's  encounter  with  old  acquaintance 
is  a  sight  pleasant  to  the  eye.  With  each  liking 
that  Charlotte  and  Waring  found  in  common, 
there  was  a  little  stir  of  surprise  and  pleasure, 
as  on  the  discovery  of  common  friends  when  far 
from  home.  A  book  has  one  of  its  finest  uses 
as  a  touchstone  of  sympathy,  and  serves  one  of 
its  happiest  purposes  in  uniting  and  holding 
those  who  love  it.  Waring  ventured  to  speak 
out  as  he  might  have  spoken  to  an  assured 
friend  and  fellow-reader  among  men.  He  had 
said  to  himself  that  he  could  not  do  this  among 
women  :  the  risk  was  too  great.  He  had  not 
the  courage  to  face  ignorance,  only  to  be  obliged 
to  beat  an  awkward  retreat  to  another  subject. 

He  had  mounted  the  library  steps,  and  had 
helped  himself  to  a  volume  of  old  poetry. 

"  See  this,"  he  said,  standing  on  the  lower 
step,  and  putting  the  book  into  Charlotte's 
hand.  "  Read  that.  "  He  watched  her  as  she 
read,  and  she  knew  that  he  watched  her.  Then 
they  looked  at  the  sonnet  together,  he  reading 
across  her  arm.  She  gave  the  book  back  to  him 
with  a  sigh  of  delight. 

"  Divination,  is  n't  it  ?  The  truth,  abso 
lutely."  Waring  looked  at  her. 

"Zes/" 


176  THE  PETR1E  ESTATE. 

"  Why  don't  we  have  such  poetry  nowadays  ? 
Why  have  we  nothing  but  magazine  head  and 
tail  pieces?  " 

"  You  are  hard  on  us." 

"  Here  is  another." 

The  second  was  a  love  sonnet.  Charlotte 
read  it  obediently  and  simply,  but  she  did  not 
look  iip  into  his  face  at  once.  He  read  aloud 
the  last  lines,  and  paused,  but  she  made  no  com 
ment. 

"  The  rhythm  is  good,"  said  Waring,  at  last. 

"Ah,  yes,  the  rhythm  is  good,"  said  Charlotte, 
in  a  low  voice.  She  looked  up  in  relief  and 
faced  him  again,  the  poetry  lingering  still  in  her 
beautiful  eyes.  She  had  no  power  to  toss  off 
the  impression  with  gay  coquetry. 

"You  have  a  good  supply  of  novels,"  said 
Waring.  "  All  the  old  masters,  I  see." 

Waring  had  himself  written  a  novel  before 
he  was  twenty-five,  which  he  now  hoped  was  for 
gotten  and  forgiven.  Nevertheless,  the  book 
had  been  a  not  unprofitable  failure.  For  exam 
ple,  it  had  made  him  an  excellent  novel-reader 
and  critic  of  fiction,  as  Charlotte  soon  found. 

"  You  still  enjoy  novels  ?  "  he  said. 

"  As  I  still  enjoy  life." 

"  Would  they  were  always  the  same  !  " 

Charlotte  looked  thoughtful.  "  The  good 
novel  often  seems  to  UK;  more  real  than  life 


AN  INTERVIEW.  177 

itself,"  she  said  slowly.  "  It  is  so  much  the 
record  of  the  inner  life,  of  what  the  naked  eye 
can  never  see.  It  is  we  that  are  moving 
about  in  an  unreal  world.  It  is  the  real,  inner 
world  that  the  novelist  sees.  He  is  the  mind- 
reader.  The  novelist  has  a  great  task  to  reveal 
us  to  each  other,  to  interpret  us,  to  educate  our 
sympathies.  Oh,  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

Her  sudden,  impulsive  appeal  touched  Waring. 
It  was  as  if  she  depended  greatly  upon  his  agree 
ing  with  her.  In  fact,  when  Charlotte  argued, 
it  appeared  to  be  mainly  that  she  might  win 
sympathy  and  companionship  in  her  opinions. 
She  had  many  times  had  courage  to  hold  an 
opinion  alone,  but  she  was  not  happy  in  it. 
Waring  found  himself  assenting  to  what  she 
said,  half  because  he  agreed  with  her,  half  out 
of  a  chivalrous  desire  to  accompany  and  support 
her  in  any  opinion  whatever.  So  the  human 
interest  and  the  intellectual  interest  are  forever 
entangled  between  man  and  woman. 

Waring  carried  an  admirable  time-piece,  and 
he  seldom  consulted  any  other.  He  was  oblivi 
ous  of  a  clock  in  the  room,  and  he  had,  constitu 
tionally,  but  little  sense  of  time.  He  never 
looked  at  his  watch  but  he  found  it  much  earlier 
or  much  later  than  he  thought.  The  talk  ran 
on,  away  from  the  book-shelves,  out  into  the 
world,  across  the  ocean,  home  again,  searching, 


178  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

exploring,  revealing.  The  mellow  chime  of  the 
library  clock  measured  off  the  half  hours  faith 
fully,  but  roused  in  the  visitor  no  consciousness 
of  the  flight  of  time. 

"  Was  ii't  Mr.  Waring  a  little  late  in  going 
away,  dear?"  said  aunt  Cornelia,  next  morn 
ing. 

"  I  think  he  forgot  to  go,"  said  Charlotte, 
laughing  softly.  "  It  was  a  pity  you  were  too 
tired  to  come  down,  aunt  Cornelia,"  she  added, 
already  uncandid. 

"  You  must  have  been  tired  yourself,  dear.  I 
call  it  very  inconsiderate  in  a  caller.  I  have 
seen  people  that  stayed  so.  There 's  Mrs. 
Bunn,  Dr.  Bunn's  wife." 

Charlotte  caught  her  aunt's  hand  in  her  own, 
and  pressed  it  a  moment  against  her  cheek. 
Aunt  Cornelia  smiled  upon  her,  but  thought  a 
caress  so  early  in  the  morning  a  little  singular. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

EEVERIE. 

THE  books  were  sent  to  Waring,  and  were 
acknowledged  in  the  next  mail  by  a  note  whose 
grace,  brevity,  and  handwriting  arrested  Char 
lotte.  This  last  she  studied.  It  was  small, 
square,  and  clear  as  type,  —  the  handwriting  of 
the  literary  temperament  as  distinct  from  the 
business  man's  shaded  curves,  or  the  large,  flow 
ing  script  of  women. 

Meanwhile,  Waring  had  set  the  ten  volumes 
of  Boswell  upon  his  shelves.  He  had  at  first 
felt  inclined  to  put  them  out  of  sight,  but  some 
secondary  association,  beyond  the  memory  of 
James  Petrie,  led  him  to  keep  their  suggestion 
before  his  eyes.  He  was  more  disposed  to  take 
down  the  Boswell,  that  Charlotte  Coverdale  — 
so  he  heard  her  called  by  the  Hathaways,  and 
so  he  lingered  over  the  name  — •  that  Charlotte 
Coverdale  had  confessed  to  a  particular  kind 
ness  for  Doctor  Johnson  and  his  scribe.  War 
ing  had  little  self-consciousness,  and  he  allowed 
himself  to  dwell  freely  upon  his  interview  with 


180  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

Charlotte,  pronouncing  her  name  to  himself  with 
entire  abandon,  unsuspicious  of  symptoms  and 
heedless  of  consequences.  It  was  well  that  he 
brought  to  bear  upon  civil  affairs  keener  insight 
than  he  gave  to  the  operations  of  his  own  mind. 
He  was  equally  dull  as  to  the  workings  of  Grace 
Hathaway's  young  heart.  He  noticed  that  the 
girl  was  developing  in  mind  and  character,  but 
he  was  quite  unaware  of  the  soiirce  of  inspira 
tion.  He  was  a  busy  man  and  a  modest  man. 
Nevertheless,  had  there  been  no  one  else  by,  it 
is  likely  that  with  Grace  and  Waring  things 
might  have  tended  gently  and  gradually  to  a 
common  result.  But  it  happened  that  some  one 
else  was  by,  and  that  another  influence  crossed 
the  simple  course  of  events.  Grace  Hathaway 
went  dreaming  on  her  way,  and  walked  in  a 
golden  haze,  while  Richard  Waring's  thoughts 
dwelt  upon  the  calm  theme  of  her  defective  edu 
cation  and  the  means  to  mend  it.  The  hope  lay, 
so  he  meditated,  in  Grace's  gift  of  adaptability  : 
she  was  evidently  capable  of  adjusting  herself  to 
a  considerable  amount  of  culture.  Singular  gift 
of  American  women !  There  was  Charlotte 
Coverdale ;  there  was  a  triumph  of  adaptabil 
ity:  a  year  ago  at  some  convent  or  other,  and 
now  —  as  he  saw  her.  lie  let  his  thoughts  have 
their  way,  and  loiter  about  her  image.  Yet,  he 
mused,  there  was  a  trace  of  the  cloister,  now  and 


EEVEEIE.  181 

then.  He  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  cigar  de 
liberately  and  thoughtfully.  The  woman  grown 
to  maturity  in  New  York  would  have  lost  that 
quality  long  ago.  What  quality?  Waring 
pursued  it  up  and  down,  but  could  not  capture 
the  idea  he  wanted.  He  had  once  or  twice  seen 
that  look  in  the  faces  of  nuns.  He  had  seen  it 
in  the  faces  of  one  or  two  rare  Madonnas,  and 
had  bowed  to  the  genius  that  put  it  there. 

Certain  people,  as  well  as  certain  events,  bid 
us  pause.  His  new  knowledge  of  Charlotte 
Coverdale  made  Waring  stop  short  and  take  ac 
count  of  himself.  As  he  lighted  another  cigar 
and  settled  himself  to  think  of  her,  by  some  re 
flex  action  he  thought  of  himself.  He  was  sit 
ting  at  midnight  in  his  "  garret."  The  murmur 
of  Grub  Street  —  as  he  also  pleased  to  say  — 
was  dying  out  far  below  his  windows.  His 
rooms  were  high  away  at  the  top  of  a  plain, 
hard-working  studio  building,  in  an  unfashion 
able  down-town  quarter.  He  fraternized  with 
artists,  and  had  at  last  taken  up  his  abode  lit 
erally  under  their  roof.  Sloping  rafters  and  a 
skylight  fulfilled  the  conception  of  a  garret ;  and 
when  disposed  for  work,  Waring  plumed  himself 
on  possessing  the  most  inaccessible  solitude  in 
New  York.  It  was  worth  one's  while  to  look 
about  the  "  garret."  Mrs.  Bisbee  had  once  held 
forth  as  follows :  "  When  they  do  have  taste, 


182  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

when  they  are  not  color-blind,  I  tell  you,  my 
dear,  men  have  the  best  taste  going.  None  of 
your  feminine  prettiness  and  fussiness,  and  clut 
ter  and  toggery.  They  set  us  an  example.  They 
are  severe  and  simple  and  dignified." 

Waring  had  a  stern  sense  of  beauty.  His 
rooms  were  a  trifle  bare,  square,  and  uncompro 
mising,  vastly  comfortable,  but  sumptuous  only 
in  color.  Warm,  strong  reds,  blues,  and  yellows 
tumbled  about  together.  Heavy  curtains  hung 
carelessly,  and  rugs  lay  at  all  angles.  There 
were  half  a  dozen  oil  paintings,  and  many  pho 
tographs  with  scanty  framing.  Waring's  eyes 
rested  now  on  a  Madonna  above  his  desk,  a 
favorite  with  him,  though  a  modern  and  not  a 
famous  picture.  He  had  looked  at  it  for  years, 
but  no  familiarity  could  exhaust  the  beauty  of 
that  face,  with  its  speaking  look  of  unspeakable 
experience.  Was  it  the  perfect  woman  incarnate 
once,  and  then  lost  to  the  world  forever  ?  War 
ing  had  preserved  a  saving  remnant  of  the  old 
religion.  He  glanced  at  the  Madonna  to-night, 
and  knew  that  his  faith  in  divine  womanhood 
was  with  him  still. 

These  pictures,  he  mused,  and  a  few  cathe 
drals  were  about  all  that  was  left  to  him  of 
religion.  A  mother  is  the  natural  teacher  of 
religion,  and  the  child  who  has  missed  her  in 
struction  has  often  to  learn  it  under  the  sterner, 


EEVEEIE.  183 

more  difficult  discipline  of  life.  Waring  had  in 
his  boyhood,  under  the  Biblical  lessons  of  a 
young  English  tutor,  put  on  a  system  of  religious 
belief  which  he  had  worn  on  the  outside  for  some 
years.  Little  by  little,  almost  without  his  know 
ledge  or  consent,  it  had  dropped  away  from  him. 
He  had  lost  everything  but  the  instinct  of  wor 
ship.  He  had  erected  in  his  heart  an  altar  to 
the  Unknown  God.  Standing  with  bared  head 
beneath  the  star-ypointing  arches  of  a  Gothic 
cathedral,  he  was  moved  with  a  mighty  Pres 
ence  ;  but  he  could  go  no  farther.  Now,  look 
ing  to  his  Madonna,  he  yearned  to  believe  in  im 
mortality.  Beyond  the  subtleties  of  expression 
was  the  spiritual  process  by  which  that  longing 
had  grown  out  of  the  sight  of  Charlotte  Cover- 
dale.  No  distinct  thought  of  her  came  to  the 
surface  as  he  continued  his  introspection  and 
retrospection.  Yet  there  is  no  such  power  to 
throw  back  upon  a  man's  life  an  illuminating 
flash  of  self-knowledge  as  the  approach  of  a 
woman  at  once  good  and  beautiful.  Waring 
dwelt  upon  his  boyhood.  James  Petrie  had 
made  a  companion  of  the  lad.  He  took  him 
about  with  him  freely,  without  much  comment 
or  instruction.  He  oftener  asked  the  boy  his 
opinion  than  gave  his  own.  He  took  care  to 
give  him  sound  premises,  and  let  him  reach  his 
own  conclusions.  James  Petrie  was  wiser  than 


184  THE  PETE  IE  ESTATE. 

many  a  parent,  because  he  was  able  to  view  his 
boy  objectively,  and  not  subjectively.  lie  saw 
in  him  strong  attractions  and  repulsions,  sensi 
tive  echoes  and  reflections,  and  a  nature  in  which 
the  balance  must  be  kept  nicely  adjusted  between 
sentiment  and  practical  affairs.  He  labored  to 
lay  deep  underneath  this  temperament  a  few  in 
exorable  principles  ;  and  after  that,  he  attempted 
no  superficial  management  of  the  lad's  life. 
Volition  he  strove  to  teach  him,  and  no  less,  in- 
hibitive  volition,  —  for  the  old  gentleman  rel 
ished  a  scientific  phrase  now  and  then.  James 
Petrie  found  Yankee  humor  an  invaluable  ally 
in  bringing  up  the  boy.  A  good  story  or  a  laugh 
in  the  right  place  was  worth  a  half  day's  preach 
ing.  All  this  Waring  understood  now,  as  he 
thought  it  over,  half  tenderly,  half  humorously, 
altogether  gratefully.  Well  he  remembered  the 
lessons  in  American  patriotism  that  James  Petrie 
had  taught  him,  as  they  walked  the  streets  of 
the  foreign  city.  The  exile  had  done  his  best  to 
fire  the  blood  of  the  American  boy.  Over  there 
to  the  West  lay  the  country  of  his  dreams,  —  the 
world's  hope,  the  leader  into  the  future.  "  And 
our  experiment  must  succeed.  The  future  of 
the  whole  world  depends  upon  it.  Go  over 
there,  my  boy,  and  do  your  share.  Help  develop 
the  resources  of  the  country,  as  they  say  of  their 
mines  and  railroads.  But  do  you  develop  the 


REVERIE.  185 

resources  of  America  in  a  different  way.  Leave 
other  men  to  take  care  of  material  progress. 
Mind  and  manners  need  cultivating.  The  Amer 
ican  has  the  best  start  in  life,  the  best  all-round 
endowment  of  nature  :  he  's  got  brains  and  prin 
ciples,  and  body  enough  for  threescore  years 
and  ten.  Now  let  him  go  ahead !  Moreover,  if 
you  want  a  future  of  your  own,  my  boy,  go  over 
there  and  step  into  your  inheritance.  Keep  Eu 
rope  for  your  playground." 

The  boy  had  said  little,  but  he  had  listened 
with  all  his  soul.  He  had  dreamed  of  that  fair 
young  country  beyond  the  seas,  to  which  he  was 
bidden  to  give  heart  and  hand.  Pie  thought  of 
her  with  romantic  devotion  and  with  sweet  anti 
cipation  of  serving  her.  Waring,  twenty  years 
after,  mused  and  sighed  over  the  boy  that  was 
no  more.  In  his  English  school-days  he  had 
heard  many  a  slur  upon  America,  and  the  most 
gratifying  victory  he  had  ever  won  was  when  he 
gave  an  honest  Saxon  drubbing  to  the  boy  who 
flouted  the  Yankees.  In  the  same  faith  he  had 
gone  home,  and  had  delivered  his  Commence 
ment  oration  four  years  later.  Then  came  the 
plunge !  After  considerable  beating  of  the 
waves,  gulping  and  gasping  and  floundering, 
the  young  man  found  himself  with  his  head 
above  water :  reporter  for  the  "  Citizen."  He  had 
left  college,  a  young  Atlas,  the  world  upon  his 


186  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

shoulders.  He  felt  some  centuries  older  than 
his  country,  and  did  not  doubt  his  mission  to 
bring  her  up.  These  views  were  much  modified 
as  the  years  passed,  but  an  idea  had  been  planted 
by  James  Petrie,  which  took  root. 

Before  he  was  twenty-five,  as  has  been  said, 
the  young  man  had  written  a  novel,  which  was 
a  failure,  —  crushed,  in  fact,  under  a  particularly 
clever  title.  The  book,  however,  had  been  a  suc 
cess,  if  we  go  no  farther  than  Waring  himself, 
and  do  not  trouble  ourselves  with  the  public.  It 
had  trained  in  him  the  habit  of  observation,  and 
had  thus  vastly  increased  his  power  of  self-enter 
tainment.  No  one  could  better  afford  to  be  a 
lonely  man  ;  so  he  had  until  the  other  day  been 
accustomed  to  tell  himself.  His  youthful  novel, 
moreover,  had  led  him  to  look  to  the  springs  of 
conduct,  and  had  developed  his  judgment  and 
his  sympathy.  It  strengthened  his  grasp  of 
human  problems,  and  helped  to  fit  him  for  grap 
pling  with  them  in  journalism.  He  maintained, 
in  later  years,  that  fiction  and  journalism  —  all 
cheap  jokes  to  the  contrary  —  should  be  help 
meets  of  each  other,  at  least  in  the  early  part  of 
a  man's  career.  When  Waring  got  so  that  he 
could  laugh  about  it,  lie  felt  that  he  had  laid  the 
ghost  of  his  dead  novel.  It  was  long,  however, 
before  he  could  digest  the  laughter  of  other  peo 
ple.  In  the  first  glow  of  authorship,  he  had  pre- 


EEVEE1E.  187 

sented  a  copy  of  his  work  to  a  young  lady  whose 
favor  ho  had  much  at  heart.  She  thanked  him, 
but  never  spoke  to  him  of  the  book  afterwards, 
and  was  discovered  to  have  had  a  treacherous 
laugh  about  it  with  a  college  chum  of  Waring's. 
The  young  author  was  certain  that  he  had  made 
a  fool  of  himself  in  her  sight,  and  the  pang 
killed  love  dead.  We  hear  no  more  of  Miss 
Alice  Leach.  A  period  of  sulkiness  followed, 
next  a  period  of  cynicism,  then  gradual  recovery 
of  common-sense. 

Kichard  Waring  was,  in  fact,  a  trifle  too 
fond  of  regarding  himself  as  a  disappointed 
man.  He  had  had  literary  ambitions,  and  he 
had  stuck  fast  in  journalism  ;  there  was  a  hitch 
in  his  career.  Certain  sources  of  inspiration 
had  failed  him.  As  for  women,  one  conception 
was  too  remotely  enshrined  to  rain  heavenly  in 
fluence  upon  his  daily  task  ;  while  the  real  woman 
was  too  near  and  too  obviously  imperfect.  Pos 
sibly  he  was  of  the  race  of  men  who  have  "  loved 
Antigone  in  another  life."  Another  source  of 
inspiration  had  failed  him.  His  patriotism  had 
been  a  pure  fire  that  had  warmed  and  lighted 
not  only  heart  but  mind  ;  but  the  fire  kindled 
at  a  high  altar  had  flickered  and  died  down  as 
he  took  up  his  pen  to  deal  with  the  reality. 
Weak  optimism,  that  blinks  the  facts,  he  would 
none  of,  he  said  to  himself  :  he  would  sec  things 


188  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

as  they  are.  It  was  not  to  be  expected  of  him 
that  he  should  have  as  yet  the  love  or  the  wis 
dom  to  see  things  as  they  are.  By  the  time  we 
know  him,  all  that  was  left  of  "Waring's  glowing 
patriotism  was  a  sense  of  responsibility.  It  was 
his  most  serious  charge  against  his  community 
that  this  sense  was  so  often  absent.  Are  we 
light,  as  a  race,  he  pondered,  spite  of  our  leaven 
of  Puritan  England  ?  He  had  never  been  able 
to  rouse  John  Hathaway  to  serious  citizenship. 
Many  a  fault-finding  editorial  he  had  aimed  at 
Hathaway  and  his  like ;  a  neat,  forcible  piece  of 
writing,  which  his  friend  praised  the  next  day 
for  its  literary  excellence. 

In  his  daily  work,  Waring  did  his  duty  as  a 
matter  of  personal  dignity.  Of  course  he  did 
it,  would  have  been  all  he  had  to  say.  He  was 
no  prig  ;  yet,  if  nothing  better  had  offered,  he 
was  a  man  capable  of  making  a  religion  out  of 
self-respect.  Pie  gave  his  work  little  credit,  and 
he  got  little  inspiration  from  it.  Before  the 
public  every  day,  Waring,  nevertheless,  felt 
himself  growing  old  in  the  cheerless  obscurity 
of  the  journalist,  who  emerges  before  his  reader 
only  in  his  obituary. 

By  sheer  force  he  maintained  a  life  of  his 
own,  and  Tip  to  this  time  had  resisted  the  in 
sidious  encroachments  of  his  profession.  His 
doctrine  of  personal  liberty  had  often  been  dis- 


EEVEEIE.  189 

cussed  by  Waring  with  Hathaway,  in  a  chaf 
fing,  idiomatic  language  of  their  own,  a  de 
lightful  substitute  for  the  terms  of  the  ped 
ants.  In  truth,  the  slang  of  refined  men  is  the 
most  delicious  thing  English  can  afford.  War 
ing,  it  must  be  admitted,  believed  in  far  more 
leisure  than  he  attained,  and  kept  up  a  quarrel 
with  New  York  life  because  it  thwarted  his 
principles.  Recreation  by  daylight  should  be 
possible  in  a  community  without  incurring  the 
charge  of  sloth  or  effeminacy.  He  had  some 
what  wrathfully  to  call  himself  one  of  the  busi 
est  men  in  the  city,  yet  he  occasionally  escaped 
from  his  indoor,  steam-heated  associates,  and 
wandered  by  the  Bronx  River  or  along  the  Pali 
sades.  Without  talking  much  about  it,  he 
loved  nature.  In  the  world  he  frequented, 
there  was  much  friction  of  wits  and  much  good 
fellowship,  yet  he  often  left  men  and  women, 
to  find  in  books  more  adequate  companionship. 
This  was  always  with  a  regret.  Books  were  the' 
best  thing  in  life  to  him ;  he  had  a  conviction 
that  they  should  be  the  second-best.  This  and 
his  other  limitations  he  charged  to  the  literary 
temperament,  whose  temptations  he  observed 
with  interest.  No  moral  or  intellectual  sense  of 
these  dangers  had  power  to  change  him  :  it  was 
only  a  shock  of  emotion  that  could  make  a  dif 
ferent  man  of  him. 


190  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

And  still  there  ran  on  the  undercurrent  of 
his  thoughts  :  Charlotte  Coverdale,  —  Charlotte 
Coverdale  loved  books,  but  they  appeared  with 
her  a  means  to  an  end  ;  the  human  interest  was 
supreme  with  her.  She  must  be  called  an  intel 
lectual  woman,  he  supposed  ;  but  she  was  more, 
including  that  by  right.  That  also  was  a  means 
to  an  end.  Waring  meditated,  as  solitude 
helped  him  to  meditate,  —  solitude  or  Charlotte 
Coverdale,  had  he  but  observed  it. 

Thus  began  for  these  two  the  double  life  of 
lovers.  In  each,  the  inner  and  real  life  went  on 
with  its  own  events,  while  remote,  on  the  outer 
rim  of  a  wide  circle,  revolved  the  other  life,  vis 
ible  to  the  bystanders. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

ON   FURTHER  ACQUAINTANCE. 

"  Should  one  of  us  remember, 
And  one  of  us  forget," 

sang  Grace,  with  a  soft-flowing  accompaniment 
of  piano-notes.  She  sang  it  low  and  tender ;  she 
sang  it  loud  and  impassioned. 

"  Oh,  Grace,"  cried  Patty,  "  please  don't ! 
Play  a  dancing-tune  now.  You  know  I  've 
got  to  teach  cousin  Charlotte  this  step.  She 
just  began  it  the  other  day." 

"  Should  —  one  of  us  remember, 
And  —  one  —  of  us  forget," 

hummed  Grace,  turning  over  her  music.  She 
began  to  play  a  heart  -  breaking  waltz,  and 
poured  her  whole  soul  into  its  tender  melancholy. 
"This  Patty?" 

"  No,  the  other  music,"  said  Patty.  "  Come, 
cousin  Sharlie,  you  know  you  said  you  'd  dance 
with  me."  Patty  clung  about  Charlotte,  and 
coaxed  and  cooed.  Grace  played  the  dance  ab 
sently,  murmuring  still,  "  Should  one  of  us  re 
member,"  till  she  was  put  out  by  the  lively 


192  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

music  under  her  fingers,  and  the  song  died 
away.  Patty,  with  little  airs  of  knowledge  and 
superiority,  was  now  instructing  her  favorite 
pupil  in  the  intricacies  of  a  new  step. 

"  One,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,"  Patty 
counted  severely.  "  That 's  it,  that 's  it,  cousin 
Charlotte.  Two  slides,  then  a  hop,  then  three 
little  springs  that  just  go  with  the  music.  It 's 
very  hard  :  it  took  me  ever  so  long  to  learn  it. 
And  there  's  one  boy  at  our  dancing-school,  he 
never  could  learn  it.  He  just  goes  round  and 
round  and  steps  on  your  toes.  You  do  it  beauti 
fully,  cousin  Charlotte,  and  you  've  had  only 
two  lessons." 

Charlotte  laughed  and  dropped  a  courtesy. 

"  Now  we  '11  go.  round  the  room,"  said  Patty 
triumphantly.  u  Just  take  hold  of  hands,  and 
go  round.  Such  fun ! "  Patty  bubbled  over 
with  laughter,  as  they  sailed  off  together  down 
the  length  of  Charlotte's  drawing-room.  The 
two  made  a  rare  couple  :  Patty  with  her  short 
skirts  and  trim  little  legs,  revolving  about  Char 
lotte's  tall  figure  and  clinging  train.  The  dance 
and  the  music  mounted  to  their  faces  and  lit 
them  with  gayety.  They  were  all  a-dance  from 
head  to  foot,  from  foot  to  head.  Up  and  down 
they  went,  in  and  out,  around  and  behind  tables 
and  chairs,  tripped  over  rugs,  recovered  them 
selves  without  losing  the  step ;  danced  up  to  a 


ON  FURTHER  ACQUAINTANCE.          193 

mirror,  laughed  into  it,  and  then  retreated  down 
the  room  ;  separated,  danced  off  alone,  then  pur 
suing  each  other,  caught  hands  again,  and  came 
breathless  to  the  piano,  to  whirl  about  Grace, 
their  delighted  spectator. 

"  Play  faster,  Grace,  play  faster,"  cried 
Patty. 

Off  and  away  again,  curls  and  hair-pins  fly 
ing,  ribbons  streaming,  till  they  ended  in  a 
grand  romp,  and  fell  in  a  heap  on  the  sofa. 

"  Oh,  cousin  Charlotte,"  panted  the  little  girl, 
"  you  are  the  very  nicest  person  to  dance  with  I 
ever  danced  with.  You  are  a  great  deal  better 
than  a  boy." 

Charlotte  was  clutching  her  hair  and  securing 
it  when  a  voice  was  heard  beyond  the  portiere. 

'*  I  beg  pardon,  Miss  Coverdale  ;  I  was  told  to 
come  directly  up." 

"  Mr.  Waring  !  "  said  Charlotte  helplessly, 
while  Grace  and  Patty  stood  in  the  background 
scandalized  and  delighted  with  this  adventure. 
It  was  the  result  of  an  appointment  to  visit 
Keyser  Street  together,  an  agreement  which 
had  cost  the  exchange  of  several  notes,  and  had, 
after  all,  resulted  in  misunderstanding.  The 
servant  had  been  instructed  that  Mr.  Waring 
would  arrive  an  hour  later  and  that  he  was  to 
be  shown  to  the  drawing-room.  Arrived  at  the 
top  of  the  stairs,  he  was  met  by  the  music  of  a 


194  THE  FETRIE  ESTATE. 

lively  dance,  and  was  considerably  astonished  to 
see  the  dance  itself  in  progress.  He  should,  of 
course,  have  retired ;  it  is  not  easy  to  apologize 
for  him.  For  one  moment,  when  he  met  Char 
lotte's  flushed,  reproachful  face,  he  felt  remorse, 
but  he  soon  hardened  into  unrepentant  satisfac 
tion  in  the  pretty  scene.  In  a  moment  they  had 
both  decided  to  be  frank,  and  laugh  all  they 
liked.  It  was  proof  that  they  were  no  longer 
girl  and  boy. 

"  I  was  not  aware  of  this  character,"  said 
Waring  gravely. 

"  Nor  was  I.  I  am  finding  it  out,"  and  Char 
lotte  blushed  again. 

By  some  funny  little  mental  process,  Patty 
had  concluded  that  Charlotte  was  in  a  position 
that  needed  defending.  She  came  forward,  and 
clung  to  her,  and  looked  out  resolutely  at  the 
intruder  from  under  Charlotte's  arm.  The  child 
nestled  closer,  and  said  to  Waring,  and  to  no 
body  else,  "  Cousin  Charlotte  is  so  —  so  dear  !  " 
Then,  at  the  unexpected  little  adjective,  she  re 
treated  hastily  behind  her  cousin,  embarrassed 
by  her  own  boldness.  Charlotte  felt  a  merci 
less  blush  steal  upon  her  again.  She  tossed 
back  her  head  to  drive  it  off,  and  said,  "  You 
will  find  me  there  by  twelve.  I  cannot  go  now. 
I  have  promised  to  be  here  the  next  hour.  You 
will  forgive  me  ?  You  will  come  ?  " 


ON  FURTHER  ACQUAINTANCE.          195 

Waring  presented  himself  in  Keyser  Street 
later  in  the  morning.  He  found  Charlotte 
seated  at  her  desk,  turning  over  accounts.  She 
was  obliged  to  ask  him  to  wait  for  a  few  mo 
ments. 

"  Don't  speak  to  me  ;  I  am  adding,"  he  heard 
her  saying  to  a  tenant,  and  smiled  to  himself 
that  a  young  lady  who  had  once  been  able  to 
calculate  an  eclipse  should  now  require  an  un 
ruffled  mind  to  add  a  column  of  dollars  and 
cents.  He  watched  her  business  methods  with 
interest.  He  had  seen  women  overdo  the  busi 
ness-like,  he  said :  affect  the  curt,  hard,  and 
smart.  Miss  Coverdale  wasted  no  words,  but 
she  laid  aside  nothing  of  the  woman  or  the  lady. 
Her  intonation  had  the  sympathy  and  charm 
that  had  won  Mrs.  Appleby's  guests,  and  society 
in  Keyser  Street  responded  to  it  precisely  as  it 
did  in  Belgravia.  He  noticed  not  only  the  kind 
ness  of  her  words  and  deeds,  but  the  little  kind 
nesses  of  inflection  that  were  scattered  through 
her  speech. 

Charlotte  concluded  a  bargain  with  a  young 
girl  who  was  to  come  to  her  as  a  housemaid,  a 
worn,  wild-eyed  girl,  rescued  from  the  sewing- 
machine.  A  clothes-line  dispute  had  reached  such 
dimensions  that  it  \vas  referred  to  her  by  the 
housekeeper,  and  was  settled  with  wit  and  diplo 
macy.  Kent  was  paid  to  Charlotte,  and  money 


196  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

was  deposited  with  her  to  earn  interest.  Money 
in  one  case  was  borrowed  from  her.  She  turned 
to  Waring  as  the  last  woman  left  the  room. 
"  Do  you  see  that  I  am  also  a  pawnbroker  ? 
I  never  lend  without  security.  Do  you  see  this 
piece  of  Russian  jewelry?  These  people  ran 
into  debt  for  the  baby's  funeral.  Can't  you  say 
something  or  do  something  to  help  me  there  ? 
The  funeral  in  high  life  is  bad  enough,  but  the 
funeral  at  this  level  is  sinful.  Have  you  heard 
of  funerals  on  the  installment  plan  ?  " 

Waring  noticed  that  she  insisted  upon  her 
foreign  tenants'  using  the  English  language,  and 
encouraged  them  to  increase  and  improve  their 
store  of  words.  Many  came  in  to  speak  to 
Charlotte  ;  many  paused  at  the  door,  and  looked 
in,  bowing  and  smiling.  Her  coming  was  the 
event  of  the  day,  and  hardly  one  in  the  great 
house  but  contrived  to  have  a  word  or  a  look 
from  their  sovereign  lady. 

"  Will  you  come  over  the  house  now?  "  said 
Charlotte,  closing  her  desk. 

Their  tour  of  inspection  revealed  many 
changes  since  the  day  when  Charlotte  had  made 
her  first  visit :  but,  as  she  led  the  way  and  com 
mented  upon  the  house,  she  threw  the  great  work 
of  reform  into  the  future.  Waring  marveled  at 
her  knowledge  of  her  people  :  of  their  family  his 
tory,  their  present  life,  its  cares  and  pleasures 


ON  FURTHER  ACQUAINTANCE.         197 

and  prospects.  He  listened  with  the  greed  of 
the  literary  man  for  material.  To  the  novelist 
in  him  it  was  a  new  world  to  conquer. 

They  made  their  way  to  the  roof,  and  looked 
up  to  the  blue  sky,  and  down  upon  the  seething 
life  below.  Charlotte,  tired  with  the  stairs,  sat 
down  on  the  division  line  of  the  roofs,  while  her 
companion  walked  to  the  edge,  and  looked  over 
both  sides,  then  came  back  and  stood  in  front 
of  her.  They  had  met  hitherto  in  conventional 
places.  Mrs.  Appleby  to  the  contrary  notwith 
standing,  Waring  and  Charlotte  had  not  seen 
each  other  under  the  most  favorable  conditions 
when  they  had  met  in  her  well-organized  draw 
ing-room.  The  roof  of  a  house  in  Keyser  Street 
answered  far  better.  All  their  social  Imped 
imenta  were  dropped.  There  was  to  each  a 
fascination  in  seeing  the  other  with  this  blank 
absence  of  background.  Fifteen  minutes  in  an 
unfamiliar  situation  carried  them  farther  than 
months  of  drawing-room  acquaintance. 

Charlotte  held  away  at  first  from  the  personal 
relation. 

"  You  know  we  are  looking  down  upon  the 
most  thickly  settled  spot  on  the  globe." 

"  Yes  ;  "  and  they  both  reflected. 

"  A  little  while  ago  I  was  in  great  confusion 
of  mind,"  said  Charlotte,  drawn  irresistibly.  "  I 
wish  I  could  have  talked  with  you  then,"  she 


198  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

said  with  sudden  confidence.  The  look  of  lovely 
appeal  endeared  her  to  him. 

"People  in  New  York  —  the  others  —  seemed 
so  unjustly  rich." 

"  Beastly  rich." 

"  You  are  too  hard  upon  them.  A  man  's  a 
man  for  a'  that.  But  I  have  not  solved  the  prob 
lem  of  wealth  for  any  one  but  myself.  I  think 
I  have  found  out  the  thing  I  ought  to  do."  She 
looked  up  with  eyes  that  he  remembered  next 
day. 

"  I  have  wondered  —  perhaps  you  could  tell 
me,"  said  Charlotte,  speaking  slowly,  after  a 
silence.  "  I  have  wondered  if  my  cousin  — 
your  friend  —  would  have  been  glad  to  have  me 
use  his  money  in  this  way." 

Waring  felt  a  curious  emotional  contraction, 
but  he  answered  promptly. 

"He  would  have  rejoiced  in  it.  He  would 
have  called  it  serving  your  country.  He  was  a 
good  American." 

"  Though  he  lived  abroad  forty  years  ?  " 

"  Because  he  lived  abroad  forty  years.  He 
idealized  America.  Ilis  America  was  Utopia. 
It  was  his  grand  passion.  He  somehow  personi 
fied  his  country,  and  got  affection  enough  out  of 
her  to  make  up  for  absence  of  family  ties." 

Charlotte  sighed.  "  I  should  like  to  be  doing 
something  now  that  would  please  him.  If  you 


ON  FURTHER  ACQUAINTANCE.         199 

ever  heard  him  speak  of  anything  he  would  care 
to  have  done,  you  will  tell  me  ?  " 

As  she  spoke,  they  looked  at  each  other.  It 
was  as  if  they  perceived  a  double  relation  be 
tween  them,  —  as  if  they  were  figures  walking 
about  in  a  story  outside  the  spot  where  they 
were  quietly  face  to  face  now.  Waring  felt  a 
desire  to  draw  away  from  that  story  relation  they 
bore  to  each  other,  and  from  all  external  circum 
stances.  They  grew  oblivious  of  lower  New 
York,  forgot  the  tenement-house  question,  and 
abandoned  themselves  to  the  selfishness  a  deux 
which  marks  an  early  stage  of  happy  love,  and 
sometimes  lasts,  for  good  and  for  evil,  through 
its  entire  course.  At  length  they  absently  made 
their  way  down  the  stairs,  noticing  nothing  this 
time  as  they  passed  out  into  the  street  and  turned 
homeward. 

Days  came  and  went,  but  they  bore  a  new 
mark.  There  was  a  Wednesday  that  was  like 
no  other  Wednesday  ;  a  tenth  of  March  like  no 
other  tenth  of  March  since  the  calendar  was 
framed.  Waring  liked  Charlotte  Coverdale's 
society,  and  he  dropped  into  it  whenever  the  op 
portunity  offered.  When  an  opportunity  did 
not  offer,  he  made  one  in  a  straightforward,  in 
genuous  fashion.  Charlotte  might  have  called 
him  irresponsible  and  self-seeking,  but  it  is  not 
at  all  likely  that  she  did  so.  She  thought  him 


200  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

occasionally  boyish  for  his  years,  and  never 
liked  him  better  than  at  such  times.  He  had 
kept  what  most  men  lose.  Rare  are  the  people 
who,  having  full  minds,  speak  out  from  them 
with  the  spontaneity  and  with  the  lovable  ego 
tism  of  childhood.  The  prattle  of  the  intellec 
tual  man  is  one  of  the  fine  pleasures  of  human  in 
tercourse.  The  prattle  of  the  intellectual  woman 
has  not  yet  been  heard,  and  perhaps,  for  reasons 
that  lie  deep,  will  never  be  possible. 

Richard  Waring,  in  business  relations,  was  a 
reserved  man ;  in  social  relations,  there  were 
a  half  dozen  people  to  whom  he  spoke  out  his 
thoughts  with  freedom  and  unconsciousness. 
Having  once  discovered  that  he  could  do  this 
with  Charlotte  Coverdale,  he  liked  her  simply 
and  frankly.  There  was  no  looking  iip  or  look 
ing  down  in  their  relation  to  each  other.  War 
ing  went  straight  out  from  the  level  of  his  mind 
and  met  Charlotte  on  the  level  of  hers.  It  was 
the  outlook  and  the  method  of  the  two  that  dif 
fered  in  the  many  subjects  beaten  out  between 
them. 

So  far  as  he  knew  his  own  mind,  Waring  ad 
mired  Charlotte  Coverdale  more  than  he  had 
ever  admired  woman  before.  To  teach  him 
more  of  his  own  mind,  some  shock  of  events  was 
a  necessity.  And  what  of  Charlotte  ?  Her 
finger  was  upon  her  own  pulse.  She  was  on  the 


OJV  FURTHER  ACQUAINTANCE.         201 

defensive.  Waring's  absence  of  self -conscious 
ness  still  showed  itself  in  the  frank  pauses  of 
his  talk.  He  frequently  stopped  to  reflect  as  he 
talked  with  Charlotte,  and  by  some  woman's 
mind-reading  she  knew  that  he  was  thinking 
about  her.  She  struggled  to  resist  the  fascina 
tion  of  these  moments  of  silence  ;  she  would 
talk,  to  break  their  spell ;  but  Waring's  listen 
ing  only  bound  her  faster.  Her  softest  syllable, 
her  lightest  movement,  he  followed.  She  would 
move  across  the  room,  and  set  about  doing  some 
thing,  striving  to  beat  against  the  charm  of  his 
attention. 

Now  and  then  Charlotte  would  make  a  desper 
ate  appeal  to  her  loyalty  to  young  Grace  Hath 
away.  Grace's  love-story  began  to  take  on  a 
new  and  alarming  interest.  At  times  she  fan 
cied  Waring  as  thoughtless  and  irresponsible  in 
matters  of  the  heart  as  he  was  serious  in  affairs 
of  the  intellect.  But  she  made  the  significant 
discovery  that  to  think  harshly  of  him  cost  her 
more  pain  than  the  other  heartache.  She  gave 
up  reasoning  and  resistance,  and,  as  she  told  her 
self,  lived  only  from  day  to  day. 

It  chanced  one  day  that  Charlotte  had  spent  a 
long  hour  with  an  admirable  woman,  with  whom 
she  was  agreed  upon  all  the  great  essentials  of 
life  ;  a  woman  with  every  sort  of  intelligence  save 
the  intelligence  of  the  heart,  with  every  grace  of 


202  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

intellect  save  the  crowning  grace  of  imagination. 
There  had  been  a  clash  of  temperaments,  that 
was  all ;  and  Charlotte  returned  home  as  if  under 
leaden  skies.  Her  thoughts  were  chill  and  low 
ering.  She  reflected  that  it  was  vastly  harder 
to  be  tolerant  of  differences  of  temperament  than 
of  differences  of  intellect.  After  all,  here  was 
the  great  inequality  of  fortune.  Life  was  rich 
or  poor,  difficult  or  easy,  a  failure  or  a  success, 
according  to  temperament.  Then  she  fought  the 
idea,  and  agreed  with  Mrs.  Bisbee.  "  We  hear 
too  much  nowadays  about  temperament,"  that 
lady  had  said,  "  and  not  enough  about  character. 
Thinking  too  much  about  one's  temperament  is 
like  thinking  too  much  about  one's  digestion," 
said  Mrs.  Bisbee  vigorously.  Yet  the  chasm  of 
difference  between  people  !  How  hopeless  to  ig 
nore  it  and  to  force  sympathy !  So  Charlotte 
was  thinking,  with  dull  pain  and  disappoint 
ment,  as  she  entered  her  home. 

"  Mr.  Waring  is  waiting  to  see  you,  ma'am," 
said  the  servant  at  the  door. 

Charlotte  walked  into  the  drawing-room,  with 
out  laying  aside  her  wraps.  Waring  turned 
away  from  the  window  where  he  had  been  stand 
ing  and  looking  out  upon  the  gray  trees  of  the 
park. 

"  '  Bare  ruined  choirs  where  late  the  sweet 
birds  sang,'  "  said  Waring,  and  with  this  greet 
ing  Charlotte's  depression  was  gone. 


ON  FUETIIEB  ACQUAINTANCE.         203 

"  I  was  long  in  finding  out  the  winter  beauty 
of  it  all,"  she  said  with  warmth  and  cheer  in 
her  voice  again.  "  I  thought  trees  were  for  sum 
mer." 

"  But  the  color  depresses  me.  It  is  like  the 
drear  Novemberish  little  etchings  that  young 
lady  artists  are  given  to." 

"  No,"  said  Charlotte  joyously.  "  It  is  the 
gray  of  a  Corot.  I  often  think  of  it  early  in 
the  morning.  And  by  moonlight  —  have  you 
seen  the  bare  ruined  choirs  by  moonlight  or  by 
electric  light  ?  "  her  happy  voice  continued. 

"  I  know  —  electric  light  is  giving  us  new 
beauties  of  nature." 

"  The  leaves  will  be  here  soon.  Watch  the 
shadows  at  night,  and  wait  for  a  breeze  to  stir 
the  trees.  That  is,  if  you  care  for  poetry !  " 

"  With  all  my  heart !  If  you  care  enough 
for  poetry  to  go  with  me ! "  For  they  had 
arrived  at  that  period  of  acquaintance  when  at 
every  meeting  some  plan  is  laid.  They  drew 
away  from  the  window,  and  sat  down  near 
together  in  the  great  room.  A  happy  hour 
passed.  When  Waring  walked  away  from 
Charlotte's  house,  a  fine  content  pervaded  him. 
Mind  and  body  were  attuned  ;  it  was  equally  a 
pleasure  to  breathe  and  to  think.  The  inci 
dents  of  the  way  exhilarated  him.  A  mite  of  a 
newsboy  backed  along  in  front  of  him.  "  Buy 


204  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

a  paper  ?  Buy  a  paper,  mister.  You  're  rich ! " 
The  irony  of  this  would  have  been  grim  on 
most  clays  :  it  was  delicious  to-night.  Waring 
bought  the  boy's  last  paper,  and  relished  the 
further  irony  that  it  was  his  own  sheet  which 
was  so  difficult  to  dispose  of.  He  drove  it  into 
his  coat-pocket  and  turned  the  corner  towards 
the  club  where  he  dined.  Late  that  evening  he 
returned  home  from  his  office,  and,  according  to 
his  habit,  took  down  a  book  to  restore  serenity 
after  the  strain  of  office  work.  No  book  better 
served  this  purpose  than  Boswell's  u  Johnson." 
He  turned  the  leaves  in  search  of  a  scene  in 
which  Dr.  Johnson  should  appear  in  person. 
Even  Boswell's  delectable  volumes  have  their 
dry  spots,  and  Waring  turned  half  the  leaves 
of  the  one  he  held  before  he  found  a  dialogue 
to  his  relish.  The  book  had  evidently  been 
packed  with  others,  and  had  lain  under  pres 
sure,  for  the  leaves  clung  at  the  edges.  Lying 
folded  between  two  pages  Waring  found  a  thin 
sheet  of  paper.  It  was  a  single  sheet  folded 
four  times,  and  had  lain  easily  hidden  in  this 
heavy  volume  since  the  day  it  had  closed  upon 
it.  A  sudden  faintness  had  come  upon  James 
Petrie,  as  he  was  one  day  looking  at  his  will, 
and  he  had  slipped  it  quickly  out  of  sight  in 
the  book  by  his  bedside.  He  never  afterwards 
recovered  consciousness. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

ANOTHER   DISCOVERY. 

A  VALID  document,  brief  and  clear ;  bequests 
to  three  honorable  charities ;  the  remainder  of 
the  estate  to  fall  to  Richard  Waring,  of  the 
city  of  New  York.  It  was  precisely  the  bit  of 
paper  that  he  had  expected  to  see  during  that 
fruitless  search  of  the  year  before.  Coming 
then,  it  would  have  brought  the  natural  expan 
sion  of  his  life  that  he  had  justly  looked  for 
ward  to,  the  freedom  and  elasticity  of  move 
ment  that  were  the  raison  d'etre  of  wealth. 
But  time  could  not  be  set  back  a  year.  Eleven 
months  had  brought  new  conditions.  New  con 
ditions  ?  Waring  gazed  stupidly  at  the  paper. 
He  read  it  again,  folded  it  up,  opened  it  once 
more,  and  looked  at  it.  He  glanced  about,  as 
if  some  one  were  detecting  him,  then  fastened 
his  eye  on  the  sheet.  He  shut  it  up  in  the  book 
again,  and  reached  towards  the  shelf  where  the 
volume  belonged.  "  If  chance  will  have  me 
king,  why,  chance  may  crown  me,  without  my 
stir."  This  thought,  if  not  these  words,  crossed 


206  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

his  mind.  But  he  took  the  will  clown  again, 
spread  it  upon  his  desk,  and  traced  it  word  by 
word  through  to  the  end,  —  solemnly,  as  one 
reads  an  instrument  of  destiny,  or  as  one  might 
bend  his  ear  to  the  voice  of  the  dead.  Fate 
uttered  strange  words  in  this  plain  legal  docu 
ment.  Waring  read  as  if  held  by  a  supernat 
ural  influence ;  his  will  seemed  bound  to  an 
oracle. 

"  Buy  a  paper,  mister.  You  're  rich !  "  War 
ing  laughed  as  he  thought  of  the  newsboy.  He 
stretched  back  in  his  chair,  and  indulged  the 
thought  that  he  was,  in  deed  and  in  fact,  a  rich 
man.  He  felt  a  sense  of  increased  age  and 
solidity  that  almost  amounted  to  a  physical 
change.  The  magician  Mammon  had  touched 
him  for  an  instant  with  his  wand.  This  was 
not  for  long,  however.  Waring  started  up 
erect  and  alert,  and  set  himself  to  clear  his 
brain.  He  still  held  the  will  in  his  hand,  and 
looked  at  it  with  the  half -closed  eyes  that  give 
a  second  sight.  His  face  expressed  only  stern, 
concentrated  thought.  A  few  moments  of  pain 
fully  clear  vision,  and  a  great  emotion  burst 
upon  Waring.  It  was  expressed  cpiietly  enough, 
however,  as  he  muttered,  "  I  am  in  love  with 
Charlotte  Coverdale ;  that 's  the  amount  of  it." 

There  was  no  more  quiet  reasoning  for  War 
ing  that  night.  Thought  was  not ;  it  was  mol- 


ANOTHER  DISCOVERY.  207 

ten  into  passion  and  emotion.  There  was  no 
further  coherency  in  his  mind ;  it  was  a  chaos 
of  ejaculation,  interrogation,  wild  hyperbole. 
One  moment  he  swam  in  ecstasy,  in  a  thick, 
sweet  oblivion  of  past  and  future,  asking  only 
to  dream  and  drift.  The  next  moment  he 
awakened  to  torment.  His  haste  to  woo  her 
and  win  her,  and  his  hot  confidence  that  he 
could  do  it,  were  coldly  balked  by  the  conscious 
ness  of  the  new  relation  created  by  the  slip  of 
paper  on  his  desk.  The  easiest  thing  in  the- 
world  to  destroy  it !  Yes,  he  loved  her  so  much 
as  that,  for  a  certainty.  He  had  lighted  a 
cigar,  and  he  held  the  burning  match  for  a  mo 
ment  close  to  the  will ;  but  it  was  an  excellent 
little  safety  match,  burning  neatly  and  com 
pactly,  and  it  refused  to  curl  its  tiny  flame  about 
a  chance  object.  Waring  angrily  wrung  it  till 
it  went  out,  as  if  it  had  refused  him  help  in  time 
of  need.  He  did  not  stand  much  in  awe  of  the 
fact  that  he  would  be  committing  a  state's  prison 
offense  if  he  put  a  match  to  James  Petrie's  will. 
A  woman  would  have  made  short  work  of  it ;  it 
would  have  been  a  quick  act  of  heroism  such 
as  she  excels  in.  But  Eichard  Waring  had  a 
man's  respect  for  legal  paper;  he  had  also  a 
dislike  for  melodrama.  It  would  have  been  the 
stage  trick  to  burn  the  paper  at  once.  Possibly 
it  was  as  dramatic  an  impulse  that  bade  him 


208  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

put  back  the  will  where  he  had  found  it.  He 
placed  it  carelessly  between  the  leaves  of  Bos- 
well,  and  set  the  book  on  the  shelf.  Should  he 
leave  it  there  to  the  end  of  time  ?  Should  he 
take  it  to  James  Petrie's  lawyers  to-morrow  ? 
Should  he  go  to  Charlotte  Coverdale  with  the 
whole  story  ?  A  whirl  of  questions,  with  no 
answers,  beset  him,  —  questions  that  his  love 
for  Charlotte  Coverdale  now  made  unanswer 
able. 

•  Waring  tried  to  examine  himself.  Where 
had  this  knowledge  been  which  now  filled  him 
so  utterly  ?  He  must  have  known  that  he  loved 
her.  How  long  had  the  fact  been  sunk  in  sub- 
consciousness  before  this  shock  and  reverbera 
tion  brought  it  to  light  ?  The  huge  impatience 
with  which  he  was  wont  to  visit  other  people's 
dullness,  he  now  impartially  bestowed  on  his 
own  behavior  the  past  few  weeks.  If  the  word 
could  have  been  spoken  before  this  discovery  ! 
As  a  poor  man,  he  would  have  had  the  moral 
courage  to  woo  her.  lie  felt  himself  quite  capa 
ble  of  plunging  through  difficult  circumstances 
to  win  the  woman  he  loved.  Moreover,  he  was 
too  manly  a  man  to  shrink  from  being  the  hus 
band  of  such  a  wife,  too  secure  in  the  difference 
between  them,  too  self-respectful  by  right  of  sex. 
The  pride  of  manhood  was  altogether  consistent 
with  the  reverence  for  womanhood :  one  was  the 


ANOTHER  DISCOVEEY.  209 

necessary  complement  of  the  other.  Waring 
could  have  endured  proudly  the  imputation  of 
fortune-hunting,  but  to  dispossess  and  humiliate 
Charlotte  Coverdale  and  then  offer  to  marry 
her,  was  an  insult  that  he  dared  not  add  to 
injury.  That  very  afternoon,  in  those  happy 
silences  that  marked  their  approach  to  each 
other,  why  had  he  not  seen  his  heart  and 
spoken?  For  her  sweet  sake  he  could  have 
borne  the  reproach  of  the  fortune  she  would 
bring  him.  For  her  dear  love  he  could  master 
his  pride,  —  rather,  he  could  elevate  it,  above 
worldly  consideration.  Had  a  weaker  feeling 
possessed  him,  the  thought  of  James  Petrie's 
fortune  falling  to  his  use  by  such  means  would 
have  been  revolting  to  him  ;  but  an  overmaster 
ing  passion  simplifies  and  solves  questions  of 
taste.  He  was  able  to  isolate  Charlotte  from 
the  events  of  the  past  year,  —  from  everything, 
in  fact,  that  had  happened,  up  to  the  discovery 
of  the  will.  The  new  relation  was  too  strained 
and  tortured  for  endurance.  The  will  must 
never  see  the  light. 

Waring  did  not  doubt  that  he  must  woo  her 
from  the  beginning :  his  unassisted  vision  had 
seen  in  her  no  sign  beyond  friendliness,  and  that 
so  cordial  and  sincere  as  to  be  in  the  highest 
degree  discouraging.  He  would  have  ven 
tured,  however,  to  break  through  mere  friend- 


210  THE  FETRIE  ESTATE. 

liness;  but  friendliness  in  the  centre  of  such 
a  situation  as  now  appeared  !  —  Waring  gave 
a  growl  of  despair.  Yet  if  he  and  Charlotte 
—  he  called  her  briefly  Charlotte  now — could 
but  once  look  honestly  into  each  other's  eyes,  he 
had  a  desperate  belief  that  all  would  be  right. 
In  the  tumult  of  events,  the  rapture  of  his  new 
born  love  proved  its  strength.  Facts  ceased 
their  cruel  pressure  ;  the  presence  of  Charlotte 
possessed  him  wholly.  Her  eyes  followed  him 
like  the  eyes  of  a  portrait.  He  clutched  at 
thoughts  as. one  does  in  falling  asleep  ;  but  they 
swam  away  from  him  and  left  him  drifting  in 
rapturous  delirium. 

Public  events  made  the  next  day  a  busy  one 
for  the  managers  of  the  "  Citizen."  Waring  ate 
no  luncheon  and  dined  late.  He  noticed,  as  a 
matter  of  interest,  that  he  had  never  written 
more  brilliantly.  lie  locked  his  desk,  turning 
the  key  on  a  good  day's  work.  There  had  been 
moments  in  the  day  when  the  incidents  of  the 
previous  night  appeared  to  have  taken  place  on 
the  other  side  of  the  world.  When  they  did 
return  to  him,  they  made  good  their  absence, 
and  took  sweet  revenge  for  his  absorption  in  a 
mere  national  event.  They  drove  him  to  seek 
Charlotte,  if  not  at  her  home,  then  at  Mrs.  Ap- 
pleby's  "  Tuesday  evening."  An  hour  later  he 
saw  her  across  the  room  as  he  was  shaking  hands 
with  Mrs.  Appleby. 


ANOTHER  DISCOVERY.  211 

"  Yes,  our  society  is  Europeanized  at  the  top 
and  bottom,"  Mrs.  Cricklewood  was  saying  to 
Charlotte.  "  We  at  the  top  go  over  to  them ; 
they  at  the  bottom  come  over  to  us.  Have  you 
ever  noticed  Mr.  Waring  ?  He  spent  his  boyhood 
abroad  :  see,  he  has  the  European  expression 
of  the  back,  as  he  makes  his  bow."  Charlotte 
protested  that  Mr.  Waring's  Europeanism  went 
not  much  deeper  than  his  bow ;  she  knew  him 
for  a  good  American. 

"Ah,  you  are  friends?"  Mrs.  Cricklewood 
said  sharply.  "  He  is  coming  towards  us." 

Mrs.  Cricklewood  gave  an  imperious  tap  of 
her  fan,  which  she  handled  like  a  bsiton,  and 
signified  that  Waring  was  to  take  the  chair  be 
side  her  sofa.  She  challenged  him  to  combat, 
but  he  made  a  lame  and  witless  reply.  Char 
lotte  held  back  a  little,  prepared  to  enjoy  the 
merry  war.  Mrs.  Cricklewood  tried  in  vain  to 
provoke  a  charge  from  the  other  side ;  Waring 
politely  submitted  to  her  judgments  and  ap 
plauded  her  wisdom.  She  gave  an  impatient 
rap  to  the  sofa  arm,  and  rose.  "  Miss  Cover- 
dale,  quarrel  with  him  if  you  can.  1  give  him 
up.  I  have  a  young  niece  to  look  after." 

"  I  have  news  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Waring,"  said 
Charlotte,  as  Mrs.  Cricklewood  bore  away  to 
wards  her  niece. 

Charlotte  rested  one  hand  on  the  arm  of  the 


212  THE  PETE  IE  ESTATE. 

sofa,  while  she  leaned  away  from  it  towards 
Waring,  pressing  the  other  hand  upon  the  sofa 
seat,  with  arm  taut,  and  figure  all  expressive  of 
glad  news  to  tell. 

"  The  portrait  of  cousin  James  Petrie  has 
come  from  London.  It  came  to-day."  She 
told  how  it  had  arrived,  had  been  unpacked,  and 
was  waiting  to  have  determined  the  most  hon 
orable  place  upon  her  walls.  Waring  scarcely 
knew  what  she  was  saying.  He  heard  her  voice 
precisely  as  he  saw  her  lips  and  her  throat. 
They  all  had  a  language,  but  it  was  not  articu 
late.  Charlotte  felt  the  lack  of  interest  in  her 
story.  Her  attitude  lost  its  spirit,  and  she  sank 
back  against  the  cushions  with  hands  in  her 
lap.  Had  she  taken  too  much  for  granted  in 
assuming  that  the  long-talked  -  of  portrait  was 
their  common  interest  ?  She  fell  back  dull 
and  chilled ;  she  saw  that  Waring  was  absent- 
minded  and  that  he  had  every  mark  of  the  man 
who  is  bored. 

"  I  am  going  a  little  early  to-night.  My  aunt 
is  not  well.  She  must  go  to  the  country  soon." 

"  Let  me  take  you  to  your  carriage,"  he  said 
with  alacrity. 

He  was  glad  she  was  going,  she  thought ;  her 
color  went  down,  and  she  felt  tired  and  worn. 

Waring  offered  Charlotte  his  arm.  A  con 
ventionality  sometimes  takes  on  a  wonderful 


ANOTHER  DISCOVERY.  213 

freshness  and  a  new  range  of  interpretation. 
This  commonplace  of  society  seemed  all  at  once 
to  Waring  the  sweetest  symbolism  of  loving 
protection  as  he  bent  to  catch  the  word  on  her 
lips.  As  he  watched  her  later  come  down  the 
stairway,  she  appeared  to  his  eyes  a  descending 
angel,  nor  was  his  imagination  disturbed  by  in 
congruities  of  fur  and  lace.  He  had  no  more 
to  say  to  her  than  he  would,  in  all  probability, 
have  found  to  say  to  a  veritable  angel  from 
heaven.  The  presence  of  her  maid  was  not 
enough  to  account  for  his  silence  as  he  led  Char 
lotte  down  the  steps. 

A  beautiful  woman  seldom  finds  a  more  effec 
tive  framing  than  the  window  of  a  carriage,  or  a 
better  background  than  its  dim  interior.  That 
last  glimpse  of  Charlotte  before  the  sharp  click 
of  the  door  struck  upon  him,  and  shut  her  away, 
was  a  portrait  that  Waring  never  forgot.  .He 
felt  the  chill  and  sinking  with  which  we  follow 
a  retreating  carriage  and  let  it  bear  away  one 
we  love.  Waring  had  spent  but  twenty  minutes 
in  Mrs.  Appleby's  drawing-room,  but  he  had 
no  desire  to  return.  He  watched  the  brougham 
till  it  turned  the  corner,  and  then  walked  home, 
in  his  character  of  poor  man.  There  was  but 
one  conclusion  from  this  evening :  the  will  must 
be  destroyed.  The  legacies  stood  there,  to  be 
sure  ;  but  Charlotte  Coverdale  had  herself  asked 


214  THE  PETE  IE  ESTATE. 

him  to  recall  any  suggestions  of  her  cousin  as  to 
the  disposal  of  his  wealth.  It  was  easy  to  re 
mind  her  of  that,  to  recall  these  very  charities, 
and  to  fix  upon  a  sum  that  would  cover  all  sense 
of  obligation.  Then  let  him  take  his  chances 
as  a  poor  man. 

He  looked  at  the  will  on  his  return  home,  and 
turned  it  over  as  he  had  done  on  the  night 
before.  He  did  the  same  thing  a  third  night, 
till  he  began  to  fear  for  his  wits.  His  repug 
nance  to  meddling  with  legal  paper  he  would 
call  a  whim  ;  then  would  argue  that  to  keep  the 
will  by  him  was  as  efficacious  as  to  destroy  it. 
On  the  other  hand,  so  long  as  the  paper  existed, 
he  could  not  make  love  to  Charlotte  Coverdale. 
He  remained  away  from  her,  determined  not  to 
repeat  the  evening  at  Mrs.  Appleby's.  Until 
he  could  speak  to  her  on  one  subject,  he  had 
nothing  to  say  to  her  on  any  other.  lie  would 
have  been  glad  to  go  and  look  at  her.  That  is 
the  sort  of  thing  he  would  have  done  a  dozen 
years  ago  ;  he  wished  he  might  do  it  still.  The 
lover  at  thirty-five  and  the  lover  at  twenty  are 
not  at  heart  so  vastly  different,  yet  Waring  had 
to  acknowledge  a  difference  in  outward  behavior. 
The  order  of  his  day  suffered  no  change,  though 
he  was  possessed  by  a  concentrated  emotion  that 
had  been  gathering  strength  for  years.  He 
made  no  struggle,  —  rather  exulted  in  its  mas- 


ANOTHER  DISCOVERY.  215 

tery  of  him.  The  rapturous  reverie,  in  which 
the  world  receded,  and  he  and  she  were  left 
alone,  was  a  dream  that  rewarded  all  pain.  She 
was  then  his  own  ;  her  sweet  voice  would  steal 
about  him  with  the  caress  of  its  tender  intona 
tion  ;  her  loved  hand  would  lie  in  his.  He  could 
call  her  by  no  names  ;  there  was  no  word  for  her 
but  Charlotte.  In  his  love  there  was  the  wor 
ship  which  is  as  touching1  as  it  is  incomprehen 
sible  to  a  woman  ;  but  which  makes  man  forever 
the  better  poet. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"HE   LOVES   ME.      HE   LOVES   ME  NOT." 

"  HE  loves  me.  He  loves  me  not.  He  — 
loves  —  me.  See,  there  's  just  one  petal  left. 
He  —  loves  —  me  —  not !  "  Grace  ended  tragi 
cally,  then  broke  into  her  gayest  laugh.  "  You 
try  it,  cousin  Charlotte  !  You  are  blushing,  you 
sweet."  Grace  coaxed,  and  put  her  arms  about 
Charlotte's  neck,  looking  straight  into  her  eyes, 
first  with  solemn  gravity,  then  with  a  teasing 
laugh.  They  were  standing  in  front  of  Char 
lotte's  bedroom  mirror.  "  Look  at  us  in  the 
glass,"  said  Grace.  Tossing  back  her  pretty 
head  upon  her  stemlike  throat,  Grace  stood  like 
a  delicate  flower  of  the  springtime.  Charlotte's 
steady  poise  and  rich  color  made  her  the  rose  of 
ripe  June. 

"  This  is  so  much  nicer  than  going  home  after 
the  tableaux,"  said  Grace  a  little  later,  as  she 
came  into  Charlotte's  room,  flourishing  her  hair 
brush.  The  two  complimented  each  other  upon 
their  hair,  in  woman-fashion,  and  then  settled  to 
a  confidential  key.  "  Talking  things  over,"  when 


"HE  LOVES  ME.    HE  LOVES  ME  NOT.'1    217 

she  ought  to  have  been  asleep,  was  one  of  the 
stolen  delights  of  Grace's  girlhood.  "  I  'm  not 
the  least  bit  sleepy,"  she  said,  opening  her  eyes 
wide,  like  a  naughty  little  girl.  "  But  you  are 
tired,  Sharlie,  dear.  You  are  the  only  person  I 
ever  saw  that  looked  pretty  when  she  was  tired, 
—  sort  of  melancholy  and  romantic,  you  know. 
Oh,  don't  spoil  it  by  laughing  I  " 

Grace  was  pensive  again,  and  played  with  the 
scattered  petals  of  her  rose.  "  He  loves  me. 
lie  loves  me  not."  Grace  repeated  the  words 
with  a  pretty  dramatic  inflection  that  was  not 
lost  on  herself.  It  worked  upon  her  feelings. 
"  Well,  if  he  does  love-me-not,  it  is  all  mamma's 
fault."  Charlotte  was  startled,  and  listened. 

"  But  I  could  tell  you  no  end  of  things.  Why 
is  he  always  and  forever  coming  to  our  house  ?  " 
pleaded  Grace. 

Charlotte  turned  so  that  the  light  might  not 
fall  upon  her  face.  She  did  not  need,  however, 
to  draw  into  the  shadow  for  dread  of  Grace. 
The  young  girl  was  absorbed  in  the  affairs  of 
her  own  heart. 

"  You  see  it  is  settled  that  I  must  marry  a 
rich  man,  and  of  course  he  has  nothing.  lie 
understands  ;  he  can  see.  He  would  not  ask  a 
rich  girl  to  marry  him  when  he  has  just  a  salary ; 
when  he  is  just  a  journalist ;  do  you  think  he 
would,  cousin  Charlotte  ?  " 


218  THE  PETE  IE  ESTATE. 

Charlotte  felt  a  double  -  edged  blade  thrust 
into  her,  turned,  then  turned  the  other  way. 

"  I  don't  know  him  well  enough  to  say,  Grace," 
she  answered  truthfully  enough. 

"  And  there  it  is.  It  is  a  perfect  deadlock. 
Mamma  keeps  dropping  hints  before  him,  and 
of  course  he  has  too  much  —  you  know  what  I 
mean.  How  could  any  man?  I  don't  blame 
him  in  the  least.  Do  you  ?  " 

A  quiver  passed  over  Charlotte's  face,  from 
her  sensitive  lips  to  her  nostrils,  and  then  to  her 
eyelids.  She  stood  with  her  back  to  the  light. 

"  I  suppose  my  heart  will  have  to  break,"  said 
Grace.  She  had  nourished  a  new  fancy  lately. 
She  had  discovered  an  unhappy  love-affair  to  be 
far  more  romantic  than  the  course  of  true  love 
running  smooth.  She  was  inclined  to  set  up  one 
of  her  own,  and  indeed  found  herself  more  at 
tractive  as  a  lovelorn  damsel  than  she  had  ever 
been  in  any  previous  character. 

"  Hearts  don't  break,  you  child,"  said  Char 
lotte,  as  disagreeably  as  she  knew  how. 

"  Well,  something  happens  —  inside  you," 
argued  Grace.  "  They  may  call  it  malaria." 

"  You  think  you  are  going  into  a  decline, 
Gracie !  "  Charlotte  laughed. 

"  Cousin  Charlotte,  I  never  knew  you  so  heart 
less.  I  shan't  talk  any  more." 

"  If  I  only  knew  how  he  felt,"  she  was  sighing, 


"HE  LOVES  ME.    HE  LOVES  ME  NOT."    219 

however,  a  moment  later.  "But  how  can  you 
ever  tdl  ?  "  She  reflected,  as  did  Charlotte,  also. 

"  It 's  all  a  matter  of  money.  And  I  think  he 
needs  the  kind  of  person  I  am,  —  somebody  prac 
tical.  Oh,  I  am  practical,  cousin  Charlotte ! 
Do  you  know,  I  have  often  thought  he  was  like 
Hamlet." 

"  Grace  !  "     Charlotte  laughed  outright. 

"  You  don't  like  him.  You  think  he  is  con 
ceited." 

"  Well,  yes,  a  trifle,  perhaps,"  Charlotte  re 
plied  with  spirit. 

Grace  did  not  argue,  but  sat  in  sad  silence. 
At  last  she  looked  up,  and  laughed  unexpectedly. 

"  Was  n't  it  the  funniest  —  Mr.  Waring's 
finding  you  and  Patty  dancing,  of  all  things ! 
And  he  thinks  you  are  so  intellectual !  " 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  I  asked  him  if  he  did  n't." 

"  So  you  talk  me  over !  " 

"  I  talked  you  over.  I  could  n't  make  him 
say  so  very  much,  except,  of  course,  he  admires 
you  beyond  everything." 

"  Thank  you,  dear." 

Grace  fell  back  into  pretty  meditation.  By 
and  by  she  said,  "Do  you  know?  Sometimes  I 
have  the  wildest  idea.  I  think  I  will  go  back  to 
school  again,  and  really  learn  something.  I 
know  I  have  come  out,  but  then  I  can  come  in 
again !  " 


220  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

"  You  would  go  away  from  New  York  ?  "  said 
Charlotte. 

"  Oh,  not  away  from  New  York.  Not  leave 
all  my  friends  ?  " 

"  Yes,  just  that." 

"  You  want  to  get  me  away  from  somebody," 
said  Grace,  with  a  soft  little  sigh.  "  You  think 
I  have  got  to  get  over  something,"  with  another 
pretty  sigh. 

"  Out  of  sight  and  hearing  "  —  began  Char 
lotte,  preparing  to  be  wise  and  disagreeable. 

"  Would  n't  do  the  least  good  in  the  world," 
said  Grace,  shaking  her  head.  "  Do  you  think 
I  could  forget?  Do  you  suppose  I  would  be  so 
fickle?" 

"  And  a  counter-irritant,  if  possible,"  persisted 
the  unsympathetic  Charlotte. 

"  A  counter-irritant  ?  Do  you  mean  some 
body  else  ?  "  said  Grace  sharply.  A  deep  blush 
crept  over  her  face,  and  she  had  nothing  to  say. 
Charlotte  was  not  looking  at  her  or  thinking 
about  her. 

"  Dear,  it  is  late,"  she  said  at  length,  gently. 

"  Good-night,  sweet."  Grace  liked  to  make 
herself  old  and  Charlotte  young,  by  putting  her 
arm  about  her  cousin  and  cooing  pretty  words 
in  her  ear.  The  sleep  of  the  young  girl  was 
deep  and  wholesome.  Grace  dreamed,  while 
Charlotte  thought.  As  Charlotte  stared  into  the 


"  HE  LOVES  ME.    HE  LOVES  ME  NOT."    221 

darkness,  her  eyes  dimmed,  and  she  felt  the  lines 
drawn  deeper  in  her  face. 

Meanwhile,  shall  we  know  the  truth  ?  Occa 
sionally  the  expected  does  happen.  Mrs.  Hath 
away  was  entirely  justified  in  her  forebodings : 
young-  Austen  had  fallen  in  love  with  Grace  at 
first  sight,  in  the  good  old-fashioned  way.  Hath 
away  had  already  discovered  in  his  new  assistant 
energy  and  perseverance  that  promised  well  in 
business,  and  Austen  brought  his  best  business 
qualities  to  bear  upon  his  love-making.  Grace 
found  herself  confronted  with  a  tangible  young 
lover,  about  whom  she  had  no  need  to  exert  her 
imagination.  The  reality  was  convincing  and 
conquering.  The  pretty  air-plant  that  had  flour 
ished  so  many  months  began  to  fade.  Grace 
fought  shy  of  herself ;  and  she  also  deceived 
Charlotte.  The  girl  herself  thought  that  she 
was  reasoning  about  Waring,  while  Austen  was 
the  suitor  that  she  was  really  pleading  for.  The 
transition  from  one  to  the  other  was  not  to  be 
made  without  a  semblance  of  heartbreak.  The 
girl  fancied  herself  passing  through  a  tragic  ex 
perience,  but  was  never  quite  satisfied  that  she 
was  miserable  enough  to  suit  the  situation.  She 
was  ashamed  of  her  faithlessness,  as  her  heart 
softened  towards  Austen.  Charlotte  happened 
never  to  have  seen  the  young  pair  together,  and 
Grace  never  spoke  of  her  new  lover.  Charlotte 


222  THE  PETE1E  ESTATE. 

had  met  him  and  liked  him,  finding1  him  genial 
beyond  his  years.  It  was  a  bond  of  union  that 
both  were  newcomers  and  outsiders.  They 
called  themselves  spectators  of  New  York,  priv 
ileged  to  look  on  and  make  sport.  Waring 
told  her  that  that  was  precisely  the  trouble ; 
New  York  was  filled  with  spectators,  rather  than 
with  responsible  citizens.  People  look  on  as 
they  look  on  at  a  play.  They  buy  their  ticket, 
or  they  pay  their  house-rent,  and  they  think 
there  is  the  end  of  it.  Yes,  he  continued,  he 
had  noticed  that  young  fellow  in  Ilathaway's 
office.  He  had  noticed  that  Hathaway  had  got 
rather  to  leaning  upon  him. 

If  Grace  tried  to  be  miserable  about  Waring, 
she  somehow  ended  in  being  happy  about  Aus 
ten.  Her  imagination  was  working  after  the 
manner  of  dissolving  views  ;  the  image  of  one 
lover  was  fast  melting  away,  and  in  its  place  was 
standing  out  more  and  more  sharply  the  outline 
of  the  other.  Grace  had  called  herself  practi 
cal,  and  she  was  not  wrong.  The  girl  had  a 
treasure  of  love  in  her  heart,  which  she  had 
fancied  belonged  to  Waring ;  but  it  was  all  her 
own  still.  It  was  held  ready  through  this  deli 
cious  waiting  time,  in  which  no  word  was  ut 
tered  between  her  and  her  lover.  They  looked 
at  each  other  across  the  way  yet  untraversed ; 
their  eyes  met  and  spoke,  —  in  the  universal 


"IIE  LOVES  ME.    HE  LOVES  ME  NOT."    223 

language.  There  was  a  tremulous  pause  before 
the  word  or  the  touch  should  come  to  break  this 
spell  for  another.  The  two  were  enfolded  in  a 
consciousness  of  each  other,  so  beatific  as  to 
hold  them  rapt  and  still.  It  were  loss  not  to 
prolong  this  season,  so  sweet  is  it  at  the  mo 
ment,  so  tender  in  memory. 

What  we  have  just  learned  of  Grace  was  not 
to  be  known  by  Charlotte  for  the  present.  The 
following  morning  she  spent  busily  at  home. 
She  had  many  people  to  think  about  besides 
Waring  and  Grace,  and  she  succeeded  in  main 
taining  for  herself  the  average  of  human  happi 
ness  until  luncheon-time.  There  was  Miss  De- 
vine's  case  to  be  considered.  Miss  Devine  sick 
and  in  trouble  had  a  claim  upon  Charlotte.  The 
fortunes  of  the  winter  had  been  varied.  Ladies 
to  whom  the  reader  had  been  influentially  intro 
duced,  as  she  would  have  expressed  it,  had  lis 
tened  to  her  patiently  and  had  paid  her  consid 
erable  sums  of  money.  By  this  means  they 
cleared  off  indebtedness  towards  certain  other 
ladies  who  had  patronized  their  own  undertak 
ings.  Thus,  for  a  time,  Miss  Devine  was  passed 
along  and  kept  afloat ;  but  one  season  exhausted 
the  patience  even  of  the  long-suffering  woman- 
public.  March  winds  and  a  bad  cold  had  re 
duced  her  to  a  plight  that  a  less  tender  heart 
than  Charlotte's  might  have  pitied.  The  poor 


224  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

creature  had  clung  to  Charlotte,  who  had  visited 
her  in  the  comfortless  elegance  of  her  hotel,  and 
who  was  now  devising  means  for  helping  her  to 
return  to  her  country  home.  Miss  Cornelia's 
advice  and  Mrs.  Bisbee's  had  been  taken,  but 
even  Mrs.  Bisbee's  capacious  nature  could  not 
take  in  such  as  Miss  Devine. 

"  I  am  weak  enough  to  be  sorry  for  her,"  said 
Charlotte. 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,"  said  Mrs.  Bisbee. 

Charlotte's  letters  finished,  she  took  up  the 
morning  paper,  and  then  cut  the  leaves  of  a  new 
review.  One  article  instantly  caught  her  eye  in 
the  table  of  contents  :  New  Types,  by  Kich- 
ard  Waring.  She  tore  it  open,  and  snatched 
it  by  paragraphs.  One  passage  she  read  again 
slowly  and  painfully.  Among  several  types  new 
to  civilization  was  mentioned  the  new  type  of 
woman  developed  by  the  so-called  higher  edu 
cation.  It  was  noticed  only  to  be  condemned. 
Waring's  remarks  were  a  brilliant  and  forci 
ble  restatement  of  old  prejudices.  The  offense 
they  gave  Charlotte  struck  deeper,  however,  than 
to  her  judgment.  She  and  Waring  happened 
never  to  have  spoken  of  this  subject.  Educa 
tion  appeared  a  thing  to  be  taken  for  granted. 
She  had  no  more  thought  of  arguing  in  behalf 
of  her  own  than  in  behalf  of  his.  The  average 
college  education  for  boy  or  girl  is  imperfect 


"HE  LOVES  ME.    HE  LOVES  ME  NOT."    225 

enough,  she  was  ready  to  admit ;  but  such  as  it 
is,  it  is  the  best  that  has  been  thus  far  contrived. 
She  had  never  been  able  to  regard  the  education 
of  woman  as  revolutionary  ;  it  appeared  to  her 
a  natural  and  inevitable  step  in  the  progress  of 
the  race.  If  she  had  tried  to  argue  about  it, 
she  would  have  found  very  little  to  say.  Even 
as  she  read  the  article  before  her,  she  had 
nothing  to  reply,  save  that  the  writer  was  im 
perfectly  informed.  Then  she  considered  the 
source  of  his  knowledge,  and  smiled  to  think 
that  a  study  of  herself  might  have  yielded  these 
conclusions.  That  this  was  Waring's  summing 
up  of  her  was  preposterous,  but  her  mind  just 
now  was  not  quite  sane  enough  to  dismiss  the 
idea.  Hurt  and  heartsick,  she  pondered.  If 
this  man  could  not  comprehend  this  woman, 
then  the  case  was  hopeless.  In  the  face  of  this 
miserable  misunderstanding,  the  future  seemed 
closed  against  her  sex.  No  wider  life  was  possi 
ble  for  women  without  the  sympathy  of  men. 
The  two  were  as  inseparable  in  their  intellectual 
interests  as  in  all  others.  But  general  reflections 
had  little  room  in  Charlotte's  mind  at  present. 
She  read  the  trenchant  paragraphs  again  with 
deep,  controlled  sadness.  A  sense  of  isolation 
overcame  her.  Waring  seemed  to  her  again  an 
indifferent,  if  not  a  hostile  stranger.  To  be 
sure,  the  article,  as  a  whole,  had  a  familiar  note. 


226  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

More  than  one  of  these  new  types  they  had 
talked  over,  analyzed  and  "  moralized."  Here 
were  the  very  phrases  she  had  heard  him  use, 
proof  positive,  she  thought,  that  the  essay  was 
written  yesterday.  Charlotte  was  not  aware  of 
the  frugality  of  the  literary  temperament,  which 
makes  a  good  phrase  do  service  for  years.  She 
was,  indeed,  making  a  serious  mistake.  The 
truth  was  that  Waring' s  article  had  been  ac 
cepted  by  a  crowded  editor  two  years  before, 
and  was  now  seeing  the  light  in  the  regular 
process  of  time.  To  Charlotte  the  smell  of 
printer's  ink  and  the  raw  edges  of  the  leaves 
she  cut  gave  an  illusion  of  freshness  that 
wounded  her  to  the  heart. 

That  very  night  there  was  a  scrap  of  conver 
sation  on  the  street  which  we  may  lay  claim  to. 
Two  gentlemen  were  walking  away  from  a  meet 
ing  of  their  club. 

"  Who  proposed  that  subject,  '  Wives  and 
Daughters  ?  '  Did  he  mean  it  for  a  joke  ?  " 

"  It  looked  like  it,  till  Waring  got  upon  his 
feet.  Upon  my  word,  I  can't  make  out  Waring. 
You  ought  to  know.  Here  he  is  in  your  review 
with  an  article  down  on  the  very  thing  he  was 
crying  up  to-night." 

"  He  may  have  changed  his  mind  since  lie 
wrote  that,"  said  the  editor. 

"  Educate  women,  it  all   amounted   to  that ; 


"HE  LOVES  ME.    HE  LOVES  ME  NOT."    227 

but  lie  said  it  well.  It  was  a  queer  turn  he 
gave  it  at  tlie  end :  educate  women  in  the  simple 
interests  of  morality.  He 's  got  something  in 
his  head,  —  got  his  eye  on  some  special  case, 
depend  upon  it.  Well,  good-night." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   KALEIDOSCOPE   TURNS. 

CORLISS  was  a  man  who  delighted  in  the 
mean  pleasures  of  the  intellect,  and  was  versed 
in  every  species  of  mental  frivolity.  He  ex 
celled  in  games  ;  he  was  good  at  a  bet ;  he  had 
a  keen  intellectual  pleasure  in  a  lie  well-sus 
tained.  The  task  of  discovering  the  Petrie  will 
was  an  ingenious  puzzle  that  lie  would  have  rel 
ished  had  he  had  no  motive  beyond  the  search. 
He  held  that,  with  modern  appliances  for  detec 
tion,  nothing  that  existed  needed  to  remain  hid. 
No  act  could  be  concealed,  no  object  be  lost 
from  sight.  His  perseverance  was  put  to  a 
severe  test.  For  months,  whenever  he  thought 
of  the  Petrie  estate,  he  sulked.  Still  he  held 
to  his  purpose,  asking  not  for  the  probable  but 
for  the  possible  thing  to  happen.  And  a  very 
unlikely  thing  did  happen.  Just  a  week  after 
Richard  Waring  had  discovered  the  will,  it  was 
in  Corliss's  hands.  How  it  got  there  it  would 
have  taken  two  people  to  tell.  One  was  AVar- 
ing's  servant,  an  old  woman  whom  he  called 


THE  KALEIDOSCOPE  TURNS.  229 

Goody  Cole,  in  the  fashion  of  his  college  days. 
She  was  a  provoking  old  creature,  with  one  shoe 
that  creaked  and  one  that  did  not,  with  a  deaf 
ness  that  came  and  went  to  suit  her  conven 
ience,  and  with  a  generally  comfortless  way  of 
doing  her  duty.  The  other  person  who  might 
have  enlightened  us  was  a  female  detective, 
who  counted  Corliss  among  her  "  gentl'man 
friends."  When  the  will  was  found  at  last,  it 
gave  Corliss  no  great  surprise,  so  firm  was  his 
faith  in  his  own  luck  in  games  of  chance.  He 
merely  had  the  sensation  that  he  had  enjoyed 
many  times  before,  of  having  turned  up  the 
right  card.  Once  that  pleasant  experience  had 
failed  him,  when  he  had  received  a  letter  from 
Miss  Coverdale,  relieving  him  of  the  care  of  her 
property.  Now  he  felt  that  the  luck  had  turned, 
and  that  the  game  was  in  his  hands  again.  He 
had  a  gay  confidence  in  the  next  step  he  was  to 
take.  It  would  be  pleasant  to  see,  he  fancied, 
of  what  stuff  the  proud  Miss  Coverdale  was 
made. 

Several  days  had  passed  without  Waring's 
looking  at  the  will.  He  hated  its  presence 
within  his  four  walls  ;  he  had  a  mind  to  deposit 
it  in  the  safe  at  his  office.  He  came  home  one 
night  from  a  late  dinner,  with  an  important  piece 
of  work  still  to  do.  At  the  end  of  an  hour,  his 
mind  began  to  lose  its  grip.  He  wrote  on,  but 


230  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

with  longer  and  longer  pauses,  and  with  more 
and  more  savage  erasures.  lie  was  so  tired 
that  he  perpetually  interrupted  himself.  He 
drove  his  pen  forward,  but  a  persistent  thought 
crossed  his  track  once  and  again,  sprang  out 
upon  him  from  an  unexpected  association  of 
ideas,  and  hung  upon  him  from  behind,  till  he 
finally  slapped  a  blotter  across  his  inky  page 
and  tossed  his  pen  into  the  tray.  His  subject 
was  the  tariff  on  wool,  but  it  proved  a  subject 
that  suggested  only  Charlotte  Coverdale.  War 
ing  had  for  the  past  week  been  in  a  fever  of 
indecision  that  reduced  his  self-respect.  Some 
action  he  must  take,  yet  he  felt  himself  para 
lyzed.  Some  word  he  must  speak  to  Charlotte, 
but  he  avoided  her  with  a  determination  that 
only  proved  his  weakness.  This  could  not  last, 
if  they  were  to  remain  in  the  same  world  to 
gether.  A  week  had  passed,  and  he  had  done 
nothing  but  love  her  miserably,  and  keep  out  of 
her  way.  This  schoolboy  behavior  he  smiled  at 
grimly  ;  it  was  time  to  put  an  end  to  it.  Let 
the  will  lie  there  to  the  end  of  time.  He  would 
set  himself  to  woo  Charlotte  Coverdale  in  all 
her  undiminished  wealth,  beauty,  and  power. 
His  adoration  was  mingled  with  the  primitive 
audacity.  He  gloried  in  her  superiority  to  him, 
and  he  relied  upon  his  own  superiority  to  her. 
As  in  one  mood  Waring  magnified  the  will, 


THE  KALEIDOSCOPE  TUENS.  231 

and  clothed  it  in  all  the  majesty  of  the  law,  so 
again  it  dwindled  to  a  mere  slip  of  paper,  with 
some  obsolete  words  written  upon  it.  That  he 
and  Charlotte  Coverdale  should  love  and  pos 
sess  each  other  was  a  higher  decree  of  fate. 
That  Lit  of  writing  once  Lrought  to  light,  and 
how  far  apart  might  they  Le  driven  ?  The  will 
should  trouLle  them  no  longer !  Justice  should 
Le  done  to  all  lawful  Leneficiaries,  Lut  —  "  It 
shall  stand  no  more  Letween  thee  and  me,  my 
Leloved ! " 

The  will  had  served  its  purpose  in  endearing 
to  him  the  memory  of  James  Petrie.  He  was 
set  right  with  his  old  friend  forever.  Now  let 
the  will  go  the  way  of  all  paper.  Wealth  and 
power  go  with  it,  pride  and  place  and  posses 
sions  !  Waring  paused  as  the  full  measure  of 
his  love  was  revealed  to  him. 

A  moment  later  he  was  pacing  the  floor.  The 
will  was  gone !  More  than  once  Waring  had 
said  to  himself  that  the  situation  must  change 
of  itself.  It  was  proof  of  his  maturity  ;  he  had 
learned  that  the  kaleidoscope  is  sure  to  turn, 
and  the  pieces  to  readjust  themselves.  His 
Puritan  grandmother  would  have  said  that  he 
waited  for  a  leading ;  he  had  expressed  it  differ 
ently,  Lut  he  had  no  less  fervently  sought  guid 
ance.  And  now  he  was  taken  at  his  word  ;  the 
will  was  gone.  The  actors  had  shifted  their 


232  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

places,  and  stood  in  different  relations.  War 
ing  was  thrown  into  a  state  of  passivity,  which 
gave  him  at  first  only  a  sense  of  relief.  He  felt 
like  stupidly  waiting  to  see  who  would  speak 
first.  The  tension  of  the  situation  had  had  its 
effect  upon  his  brain.  He  sank  into  his  chair, 
and  sat  dazed  and  still.  By  degrees  his 
thoughts  set  to  work  again.  Would  the  will 
be  brought  to  Charlotte's  knowledge,  was  the 
new  question  that  beset  him.  The  situation  was 
so  desperate  that  it  nerved  him.  He  calmly 
made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  her  the  following 
day  and  to  tell  her  the  story  from  its  beginning 
to  the  conclusion  it  had  reached  in  his  own 
heart.  With  this  resolve,  he  went  to  bed,  and 
slept  better  than  he  had  done  for  a  week. 

But   on  the  following  day  it  was  Charlotte 
who  came  to  him. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A   SHOPPING   EXPEDITION. 

ON  the  morning  of  that  clay  when  Waring 
looked  for  James  Petrie's  will,  and  did  not 
find  it,  Mrs.  Hathaway  and  her  cousin  Miss 
Coverdale  were  giving  their  minds  to  spring 
shopping.  Mrs.  Hathaway's  trim  figure  was 
clad  in  a  tailor-made  dress  of  dark  cloth,  and 
upon  her  head  was  a  perfect  little  bonnet  of 
harmonizing  shades.  Her  taste,  like  that  of 
many  other  women,  was  further  developed  in 
the  matter  of  dress  than  in  any  other  direction. 
Her  figure  was  admirable,  under  the  influence 
of  excellent  dressmaking  and  the  example  of 
other  New  York  women  whom  she  observed 
and  emulated.  Constant  glimpses  of  herself  in 
mirrors  also  aided  her  to  acquire  the  pose  and 
movement  that  were  essentials  of  personal  ap 
pearance.  She  had  stated  as  a  maxim,  after 
good  consideration,  that  girls  should  be  brought 
up  in  company  with  long  mirrors  if  they  were 
to  carry  themselves  well  through  life.  She 
attended  a  species  of  entertainment  known  as 


234  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

"talks,"  upon  a  subject  which  might,  perhaps, 
be  named  social  athletics.  Miss  Devine  added 
this  branch  to  her  other  accomplishments. 
Early  in  the  winter,  Mrs.  Hathaway  had  fol 
lowed  her  faithfully,  and  regarded  her  advice 
about  rising  and  sitting  down  as  eminently 
sound.  For  her  "  interpretations  of  Browning," 
Mrs.  Hathaway  frankly  cared  less.  The  result 
of  her  attention  to  these  subjects  was  that  she 
did  indeed  walk  down  the  aisle  of  a  great  dry- 
goods  store  with  the  finished  air  of  a  New  York 
shopper.  The  polished  floor-walker  recognized 
her  at  once,  and  bent  low  to  direct  her,  with  a 
flourish  of  the  hand  worthy  of  stage  royalty : 
"  Three  rooms  to  the  right,  madam." 

"  I  wish  to  find  India  silks,"  Mrs.  Hathaway 
had  said,  also  \vith  an  inimitable  air  of  adequacy 
to  the  situation.  Charlotte  was  just  behind  her, 
in  the  relation  in  which  she  usually  found  her 
self  in  shopping  with  her  cousin.  She  followed 
Sue  with  respect  and  amusement  in  equal  parts. 
She  had  never  seen  her  cousin  so  completely  in 
command  of  her  resources,  so  competent  and  so 
exhilarated.  Mrs.  Hathaway  dealt  with  things 
in  a  magnificent  and  impersonal  way,  with  a 
glance  at  a  fabric  beyond  her  purse,  and  a  cas 
ual  remark  that  it  was  altogether  wrong.  She 
made  unfeeling  criticisms  of  their  wares  to  the 
face  of  patient  salesmen,  and  scolded  them  for 


A  SHOPPING  EXPEDITION.  235 

the  high  tariff  as  she  tossed  about  expensive  im 
ported  goods.  An  American  woman's  shopping 
is  always  embittered  by  memories  of  the  custom 
house. 

Charlotte  listened  and  marveled.  She  felt  a 
remnant  of  rusticity  in  her  own  shopping  man 
ner.  She  could  not  call  for  silks  and  linens 
with  such  assertion,  or  pronounce  upon  them 
with  such  sweeping  condemnation.  Nor  could 
she  ever  attain  Sue's  impersonal  tone.  To 
Charlotte,  there  was  a  human  relation,  even 
across  a  counter.  She  had  her  little  confidences 
with  the  saleswomen,  called  upon  them  for 
advice  and  sympathy,  and  left  behind  her  a 
memory  of  her  voice  and  smile  that  made  a 
shop-girl's  whole  day  brighter.  Many  a  sales 
man,  with  cynical  views  of  women,  had  his 
scepticism  shaken  by  the  grave,  sweet  woman 
who  thanked  him  for  his  trouble,  and  looked  up 
at  him  with  a  smile  as  the  change  slipped  away 
from  her  gloved  fingers. 

"Charlotte,  you  puzzle  me,"  said  Sue  once. 
"  You  always  thank  people  from  the  bottom  of 
your  heart,  and  you  look  at  them  with  your  soul 
in  your  eyes,  when  there  is  n't  the  least  occasion. 
It 's  pretty,  it 's  becoming,  but  then." 

Charlotte  took  the  reproof.  She  was  gentle 
under  correction,  and  she  fell  to  wondering  if 
she  were  a  shallow  nature,  with  a  too  ready 


236  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

smile  and  too  quick-starting  sympathies.  She 
was  not  convinced  even  when,  long  after,  the 
voice  she  loved  best  explained  it  far  differently. 
This  was  lover's  eulogy,  she  protested,  all  the 
while,  with  new  resolve  of  heart  and  soul,  setting 
herself  to  deserve  a  half  of  what  her  lover  be 
lieved  of  her. 

Different  as  they  were  in  method,  yet  Mrs. 
Hathaway  and  Charlotte  each  respected  the 
other's  judgment  in  shopping,  and  frequently 
sought  each  other's  company  on  these  expedi 
tions.  Not  that  they  always  agreed  in  matters 
of  taste.  Charlotte,  so  her  cousin  declared,  was 
too  theoretical,  she  had  too  many  ideas. 

"  Now  I  don't  pretend  to  know  anything 
about  art,  but  I  do  know  what  I  like.  Of 
course,  tastes  differ.  People  can't  lay  down  the 
law." 

Sue  learned  rapidly  by  observation,  and  while 
she  never  arrived  at  general  principles,  yet  she 
achieved  many  results  that  were  admirable. 
Her  house  represented  a  half -developed  sense 
and  application  of  the  beautiful,  —  "a  half- 
baked  house,  like  half  the  houses  in  New  York," 
somebody  had  called  it,  —  while  luer  dress  and 
the  dress  of  her  family  were  faultless. 

On  these  tours  of  the  shopping  district,  the 
two  women  not  only  supported  each  other's 
judgment,  but  they  accomplished  much  cousinly 


A  SHOPPING  EXPEDITION.  237 

visiting.  Women  easily  wax  confidential  in 
public  places.  They  have  an  obscure  language 
of  their  own,  made  up  of  glances  and  inflections 
and  inarticulate  murmurs,  which  renders  them 
secure  from  strangers'  ears.  The  pen  is  poor 
to  describe  such  interchange  of  ideas.  The  ac 
tual  talk  of  the  cousins  was  on  this  morning  so 
fragmentary  that  it  becomes  difficult  to  piece  it 
together  ;  yet,  when  they  parted,  they  had  the 
impression  of  having  gone  to  the  bottom  of 
nearly  every  subject  they  had  in  common. 

"  Talking  things  over  about  once  in  so  often  " 
was  a  necessity  with  Mrs.  Hathaway.  Grace 
had  inherited  the  characteristic,  and  mother  and 
daughter  alike  enjoyed  Charlotte  as  a  confidante. 

"I  am  looking  for  the  stocking  counter.  Ned 
is  so  hard  on  stockings,  —  these  long  ones  are 
terribly  expensive."  The  two  women  gravely 
discussed  the  question  whether  Ned  should  go 
out  of  knickerbockers,  and  this  topic  somehow 
led  to  the  question  of  the  boy's  going  to  col 
lege. 

"  His  father  wants  him  to  go.  I  don't  know. 
My  father  always  used  to  say  that  it  spoiled  a 
man  for  business.  I  often  think  John  would 
have  got  on  better  if  he  had  n't  gone  to  college, 
—  if  he  could  have  given  his  whole  mind  to 
business." 

The  stockings  absorbed  Mrs.  Hathaway  for  a 


238  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

time.  Charlotte  was  called  in  to  decide  between 
ribbed  and  plain. 

"  You  see  John  has  had  all  his  money  to  make 
himself,  —  or  nearly  all.  His  father's  property 
had  to  be  divided  among  six.  It 's  not  very 
often  that  any  one  inherits  a  complete  fortune, 
as  you  did,  you  lucky  girl."  This  remark  was 
half  whisper  and  half  nod.  "  Money  gets  so 
divided  up  that  it  does  n't  amount  to  much. 
I  've  always  wished  that  remarkable  old  cousin 
of  yours  had  been  on  our  side  of  the  family.  It 
was  queer  that  that  money  should  come  to  you, 
after  all."  Mrs.  Hathaway' s  face  had  the  look 
of  superior  knowledge,  but  she  stopped  short 
for  the  present,  and  conducted  Charlotte  to  the 
dress-goods  counter. 

"  I  always  get  the  best,"  said  Sue,  settling 
herself  comfortably  in  a  seat,  after  the  manner 
of  the  experienced  shopper.  u  If  you  spend 
such  sums  in  dressmaking,  it  only  pays  to  get 
the  best.  And  dear  me  !  if  you  pay  such  prices 
for  material,  it  is  n't  worth  while  to  go  to  a  cheap 
dressmaker." 

Such  was  the  logic  that  ruled  Mrs.  Hatha 
way 's  establishment.  She  spent  money,  as  she 
believed,  not  for  personal  gratification,  but 
under  a  painful  necessity.  By  a  stealthy  and 
imperceptible  progress,  luxuries  had  grown  into 
necessities,  and  what  was  pleasant  yesterday 


A  SHOPPING  EXPEDITION.  239 

was  indispensable  to-day.  This  process  had 
been  going  on  for  twenty  years  in  Mrs.  Hatha- 
way's  household  economy. 

"  You  have  to  have  things  a  little  like  other 
people,"  she  sighed  frequently.  "  You  must 
have  things  proper  and  suitable.  You  must 
have  things  correspond"  she  pleaded  constantly. 
Under  this  last  principle  her  entire  establish 
ment  had  been  transformed  since  her  modest 
housekeeping  first  began. 

As  Mrs.  Hathaway  passed  from  counter  to 
counter,  she  let  fall  much  valuable  knowledge  of 
towels,  hosiery,  underwear,  and  dress  fabrics ; 
but  her  information  was  adapted  to  women  just 
beyond  her  in  the  scale  of  wealth. 

"  It 's  a  great  accomplishment  to  know  how  to 
shop.  I  intend  Grace  shall  be  a  good  shopper." 

"•  She  has  some  very  practical  gifts,"  said 
Charlotte. 

"  But  she  reads  so  much.  Don't  you  think 
she  reads  too  much  ?  I  have  no  time  to  read," 
sighed  Sue.  "  Of  course  I  look  at  the  newspa 
per."  This,  Mrs.  Hathaway  did  every  day,  but 
she  was  an  inattentive  reader  of  a  newspaper. 
She  made  no  connection  between  one  day's  news 
and  another's.  The  great  world  from  which 
news  was  telegraphed  and  cabled  was  no  more 
to  her  than  a  huge  revolving  sphere,  about  as 
formless  as  when  the  earth  was  first  set  turning 


240  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

on  its  axis.  As  for  Waring's  newspaper,  "  I 
call  it  dreadful  tedious,"  said  Mrs.  Hathaway. 
"If  I  am  to  read  a  newspaper,  I  want  some 
thing  bright  and  breezy."  Occasionally  her 
husband  gratified  her  by  bringing  home  a  sheet 
as  bright  and  breezy  as  she  could  desire  ;  "  only 
keep  it  out  of  the  way  of  the  children,"  he 
added. 

Mrs.  Hathaway's  embroidery  silks  chosen,  the 
two  ladies  moved  away  to  a  remote  depart 
ment.  The  passage  was  suggestive  and  distract 
ing.  No  talk  could  be  coherent  in  such  circum 
stances.  Servants'  jaunty  caps  suggested  the 
impudence  of  the  waitress  the  day  before  ; 
Pears'  soap,  the  plumbers  who  had  torn  the 
bath-room  to  pieces  and  left  it  disemboweled 
for  a  week ;  school-slates  brought  up  the  chil 
dren's  terrific  school-bills. 

Charlotte's  sympathy  showed  tenderest  when, 
for  a  moment,  Sue  was  reminded  of  her  hus 
band,  and  spoke  drearily  of  his  health.  "  These 
dreadful  headaches,  and  he  is  so  depressed !  Of 
course,  Charlotte,  you  are  the  only  one  I  would 
say  it  to,  but  I  do  have  a  good  deal  to  bear.  It 
is  all  I  can  do  to  keep  things  cheerful.  John  is 
so  depressed  and  so  incommunicative.  I  sup 
pose  his  business  is  worrying  him,  and  I  think 
he  frets  about  his  health.  I  tell  him  lie  smokes 
too  much,  that 's  all  that  ails  him.  If  lie  would 


A  SHOPPING  EXPEDITION.  241 

ever  talk  about  things  !  But  he  is  so  silent 
these  times." 

"  Sue,  John  ought  to  have  a  long  vacation. 
Could  n't  he  get  away  to  Europe  for  a  few 
months  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  say  that  to  him.  I  wish  you 
would.  He  will  tell  you  he  can't  leave  his  busi 
ness.  He  has  been  saying  that  ever  since  we 
were  married.  He  has  n't  had  a  real  vacation 
for  twenty  years.  I  am  sure  I  have  tried  hard 
enough  to  make  him  take  one.  Nobody  can  say 
I  have  kept  him.  I  have  told  him  many  a  time 
not  to  mind  the  children  and  me.  Some  day  I 
suppose  he  will  break  down  completely  and  then 
he  will  have  to  go  to  Europe  !  " 

Charlotte's  smile  was  followed  quickly  by  the 
tender,  anxious  look  that  Sue  was  grateful  for. 

"  I  suppose  John  is  n't  the  man  to  like  to  go 
off  alone,  for  one  thing.  If  you  don't  know 
much  about  men,"  said  Sue  to  Charlotte,  "  you 
don't  know  what  clinging,  dependent  creatures 
they  are.  You  are  very  much  mistaken  if  you 
think  we  are  the  weaker  sex."  Sue's  scraps  of 
married  woman's  wisdom  were  unanswerable. 

"  There  's  no  use,"  she  continued.  "  We  have 
got  to  just  live  along." 

The  morning  passed,  and  the  ladies  decided 
to  pause  in  their  shopping,  and  to  lunch  at  a 
neighboring  restaurant.  They  selected  a  place 


242  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

by  a  rear  window  looking  upon  a  garden,  drew 
off  their  gloves,  and  bent  across  the  table,  more 
confidential  than  before. 

"  Grace  is  another  of  my  anxieties,"  said  Mrs. 
Hathaway.  "  Now  you  see  a  great  deal  of 
Grace,  and  perhaps  you  know  what  to  make  of 
her.  She  doesn't  seem  to  know  her  own  mind." 

"  There  are  influences  drawing  Grace  in  oppo 
site  directions,"  said  Charlotte  thoughtfully. 

"  Oh,  that 's  New  York.  Perfectly  distract 
ing." 

"  And  Grace  is  very  young." 

"  She  has  been  out  of  school  a  year.  I  gradu 
ated  when  I  was  seventeen  !  " 

This  was  again  a  form  of  argument  hard  to 
answer.  Charlotte  broke  off  a  bit  of  bread, 
and  said,  "  I  think  Grace  has  developed  remark 
ably  in  this  last  year." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,  —  perhaps  so,  if  getting 
ideas  that  she  does  n't  know  what  to  do  with  is 
developing.  Oh,  I  don't  blame  you,  Charlotte  ; 
I  blame  Richard  Waring  as  much  as  anybody. 
I  don't  know  that  you  have  ever  noticed,  but  he 
has  a  great  influence  over  Grace.  If  Mr.  War 
ing  says  this  or  that,  or  says  she  must  think  thus 
and  so,  why,  so  it  must  be.  The  rest  of  us  have 
nothing  to  say.  I  have  thought  —  there  's  no 
harm  in  telling  you,  Charlotte,"  —  Sue  lowered 
her  voice  several  notes,  —  "  that  something  more 


A  SHOPPING  EXPEDITION.  243 

might  come  of  all  this.  I  tell  you  frankly,  if  he 
had  had  money,  I  should  have  encouraged  it,  — 
I  should  have  liked  nothing  better,  that  is,  of 
course,  if  he  had  had  money.  It  could  easily 
have  been  brought  about,  if  I  had  cared  to  show 
a  little  interest.  But  he  could  never  marry 
Grace,  with  his  income,  and  she  accustomed  to 
have  everything.  If  he  had  had  money,  it  would 
have  been  very  different,  —  even  you  must  ac 
knowledge  it.  It  is  very  easy  for  you  to  be 
unworldly,  Charlotte,  with  your  income." 

Mrs.  Hathaway  relapsed  into  meditation.  A 
temptation  many  times  resisted  was  again  at 
tacking  her.  Under  the  genial  influence  of  her 
excellent  luncheon,  she  was  melting  into  confi 
dences  that  she  knew  she  might  repent. 

"  It  is  very  curious,"  she  murmured,  behind 
her  teeth,  and  then  stopped,  and  resisted  her 
self. 

"What  is  very  curious?  Do  let  me  hear," 
said  Charlotte,  who  was  trying  to  look  and 
speak  unconcernedly,  and  was  succeeding  per 
fectly. 

"  About  Richard  Waring.  I  have  never  told 
you,  but  I  don't  see  why  yoii  should  n't  know  at 
this  late  day,  when  everything  is  settled.  It  is 
nearly  a  year  ago." 

"What?     What  was  a  year  ago  ?" 

"  Why,  the  death  of  your  cousin."     Sue  was 


244  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

provokingly  slow  and  deliberate.  "  The  death  of 
your  cousin  was  nearly  a  year  ago."  She  paused 
and  looked  at  Charlotte. 

"You  have  met  Richard  Waring'  at  our 
house,"  Mrs.  Hathaway  continued,  relevantly  or 
irrelevantly.  "  You  must  have  met  him  at  other 
places." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Charlotte  lightly. 

"  Well,  Richard  Waring  has  always  been  a 
great  friend  of  John's,  though  I  must  confess 
I  never  could  see  the  attraction  myself.  They 
were  friends  before  we  were  married.  As  I  say, 
I  never  thought  he  was  anything  remarkable, 
but  I  wished  him  well  enough,  and  I  hoped  he 
would  have  that  money.  Somehow  I  never 
thought  of  you  as  the  nearest  of  kin,  the  old 
man  had  lived  so  far  away." 

"  Tell  me  what  you  mean !  " 

"  Why,  we  all  supposed  that  James  Petrie  had 
left  his  money  to  Richard  Waring..  He  had 
been  his  ward,  you  know.  The  lawyers  said 
there  had  been  a  will  at  one  time."  Sue  was 
genuinely  frightened  at  Charlotte's  white  face. 
"  Don't  be  disturbed  about  it,  now,  Charlotte. 
You  are  perfectly  secure.  John  told  me  I  must 
never  tell  you.  The  will  was  never  found. 
That 's  all  there  is  about  it." 

Charlotte  looked  helplessly  at  her  cousin. 
Her  lips  would  not  move  to  speak.  Her  heart 


A  SHOPPING  EXPEDITION.  245 

beat  so  loud  that  it  seemed  the  people  in  the 
room  must  hear  and  know.  "  Is  n't  it  very  close 
here?  "  she  whispered.  She  felt  her  lips  stiffen 
ing,  and  managed  to  touch  them  with  a  glass  of 
water. 

"  Why,  we  are  right  by  an  open  window.  But 
Charlotte,  don't  feel  so.  Nothing  can  happen 
now.  It  is  n't  possible  for  anything  to  happen. 
I  have  often  asked  John.  Of  course  we  have 
taken  a  great  interest  all  along.  I  am  so  sorry 
I  told  you.  You  will  be  very  foolish  if  you  let 
it  worry  you." 

"  Can  I  get  home  ? "  said  Charlotte  weakly. 
"  If  only  I  could  go  home.  I  might  have  sus 
pected.  I  must  go  home  and  think  what  I  can 
do." 

"  But,  Charlotte,  you  can  do  nothing.  What 
can  you  do  ?  There  is  nothing  to  be  done.  You 
must  be  reasonable.  You  are  the  legal  heir. 
Nothing  can  change  that.  That  money  is  no 
more  Richard  Waring's  than  it  is  mine,  and 
you  need  n't  have  the  slightest  thought  of  him. 
Richard  Waring  is  nothing  to  you." 

"  Sue,  please,  I  can't  talk.     I  must  go  home." 

The  two  ladies  walked  out  of  the  restaurant 
apparently  just  as  they  had  walked  in,  but  in 
that  half  hour  the  world  had  changed  its  face  to 
Charlotte. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

NEXT  MORNING. 

"  IT  's  a  gentleman,  ma'am,  wants  to  see  you." 

Charlotte  took  the  card,  which  bore  the  name 
of  Corliss,  with  the  address  of  his  club.  She 
was  greatly  minded  to  send  the  man  curtly  away  ; 
but  she  reflected  that  the  interests  of  her  Keyser 
Street  property  might  be  concerned,  and  went 
down  to  see  her  visitor. 

"  Good-morning,"  she  said  briefly. 

"  Good-morning,"  he  replied,  and  dropped  his 
voice  confidentially  to  say  something  about  the 
weather.  lie  had  seated  himself  in  a  low  chair, 
while  Charlotte  took  the  highest  in  the  room. 
The  fact  gave  character  to  the  interview.  She 
was  not  responsive  as  to  the  weather ;  she  waived 
social  amenities,  and  looked  at  him,  waiting. 

"  I  called  to  see  you  on  important  business," 
began  Corliss  in  his  most  leisurely  fashion.  He 
always  addressed  Miss  Coverdale  as  '"you." 

"  I  supposed  so,"  Charlotte  replied. 

"  You  know  our  firm  managed  your  cousin's 
city  real  estate  for  him  a  number  of  years.  Nat- 


NEXT  MORNING.  247 

urally,  a  good  many  of  his  papers  came  into  our 
hands,  —  used  to  keep  'em  in  our  safe,  you 
know." 

He  paused,  and  in  the  pause  Charlotte  had 
time  for  the  most  rapid  mental  calculation  she 
had  ever  performed.  She  sat  a  little  more  erect 
and  looked  down  upon  Corliss. 

She  said,  as  if  to  take  up  her  part  in  the  con 
versation,  "  And  you  have  found  his  will  among 
these  papers?  " 

Corliss  started.  The  sensation  he  had  counted 
on  he  was  himself  experiencing.  Pie  lost  his 
survey  of  the  situation  completely ;  knocked 
quite  out  of  his  senses,  he  laughed  loud  and  al 
most  shouted,  "So  you've  known  about  it  all 
along ! "  He  got  no  farther,  with  Charlotte 
looking  down  at  him.  He  recovered  his  part 
instantly. 

"  Strange,"  he  said,  "  that  in  your  search  for 
the  will  —  our  search  for  it,  I  should  say  —  one 
small  package  of  papers  should  have  been  over 
looked." 

Charlotte  sat  quiet,  but  a  sensation  more 
vivid  than  any  Corliss  had  calculated  upon  was 
stirring  her. 

"  We  've  had  considerable  cleaning  going  on, 
and  turning  over  of  old  papers.  Strange  we 
should  come  upon  such  a  document." 

"  Strange,  indeed,  and  very  unlikely.  I  should 
like  to  see  the  will." 


248  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

"  I  have  it  here." 

Charlotte  held  her  hand  for  it.  "No,  you 
don't !  "  Corliss  was  about  to  say,  but  changed 
it  to,  "  If  you  '11  step  to  the  window.  The  ink 
is  faded." 

There  he  held  the  sheet  of  paper  while  Char 
lotte  read  it  through. 

"  People  are  not  usually  so  careless  of  valuable 
documents,"  she  said,  turning  away. 

"  A  will  is  just  the  thing  a  man  will  be  careless 
about,  you  see.  You  can't  make  a  man  take  the 
same  interest  in  his  will  that  he  takes  in  other 
things.  He  thinks  it  '11  keep  off  death  to  leave 
it  lying  round,  not  finish  it  up  and  put  it  away, 
as  if  he  was  ready  to  go  to-morrow.  So  they 
leave  them  unsigned,  time  and  again." 

Charlotte  looked  at  the  signatures,  and  read 
the  paper  through  again. 

"This  Waring,"  Corliss  continued,  "was  the 
old  man's  ward.  He  's  a  fellow  here  in  the  city, 
—  a  newspaper  man,  poor  as  all  the  rest  of 
them." 

Charlotte  turned  her  sad,  beautiful  eyes  slowly 
upon  Corliss.  For  the  first  time  in  his  experi 
ence  of  her,  she  looked  helpless.  She  was  so 
still  that  he  felt  safe  in  proceeding. 

"But  he  need  never  trouble  you,"  said  Cor 
liss. 

"  Never  trouble  me  ?  "  she  echoed.  "  But  if 
this  will  is  valid?" 


NEXT  MORNING.  249 

Corliss  felt  his  ground  uncertain.  Most 
women,  he  often  said,  had  no  notion  of  business 
honor.  lie  once  bet  that  he  could  persuade  a 
woman  to  forge  a  signature  in  perfect  innocence. 
He  accomplished  it,  without  having  heard  of  the 
great  dramatist  who  made  his  heroine  an  inno 
cent  forger.  But  Corliss  was  obliged  to  feel  his 
way  cautiously  with  an  enlightened  woman  of 
conscience,  and  was  not  greatly  aided  by  his  old 
maxim,  that  all  women  are  alike. 

"  lie  won't  ever  disturb  you,"  he  repeated. 
"Everything  was  all  settled  up.  You're  all 
right.  Nobody  knows  of  the  existence  of  this 
will  but  just  you  and  me.  There  's  no  use  talk 
ing  about  it  now ;  it 's  too  late.  It  might  just 
as  well  be  destroyed.  I  'd  promise  you  to  keep 
quiet  about  it."  Corliss  had  taken  a  letter-press 
copy  of  the  will,  and  had  shown  it  to  two  wit 
nesses. 

He  now  eyed  Charlotte  anxiously.  He  found 
her  behavior  natural.  It  was  not  strange  that 
she  was  white  and  quiet,  in  face  of  the  wreck  of 
her  fortunes.  She  looked  dull  and  acquiescent, 
as  if  she  did  not  quite  follow  him,  but  did  not 
dispute  him.  He  fancied  that  she  was  coming 
under  his  power.  This  secret  established  be 
tween  them  he  intended  should  be  a  paying  in 
vestment.  His  miscalculation  of  Charlotte  was 
not  so  much  disrespect  to  her  as  irreverence 
towards  her  sex. 


250  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

In  the  midst  of  his  low  thoughts  of  her,  she 
sat  in  isolation  remote  and  pure,  her  face  turned 
towards  him  with  an  inscrutable  expression  under 
its  pallor. 

"  This  Waring  don't  suspect  its  existence," 
Corliss  went  on,  to  her  passive  listening. 
"  When  the  old  gentleman  first  died,  the  fellow 
did  n't  leave  a  stone  unturned  to  find  the  will. 
It  was  no  use.  He  was  rather  cut  up,  I  fancy. 
He  's  taken  it  out  in  savage  editorials.  It 's  kind 
of  colored  his  views  of  life,  you  may  say."  Cor 
liss  chuckled. 

Charlotte's  mind  was  strained  with  thought, 
and  every  muscle  of  her  body  was  tense  in  sym 
pathy.  She  looked  finely  tragic,  as  was  ap 
propriate,  Corliss  thought.  lie  looked  at  her 
admiringly  from  head  to  foot.  Charlotte  sat 
motionless,  however,  under  the  necessity  of 
thinking  and  acting  without  delay. 

"  You  cannot  leave  the  will  with  me  ?  I  un 
derstand." 

"  I  could  n't  do  that,  you  know,"  said  Corliss, 
with  the  lowering  of  the  voice  that  was  one  of 
his  offensive  tricks.  "  This  paper  was  left  in 
our  charge." 

"  Excellent  care  you  took  of  it." 

"Accidents  will  happen.  This  is  n't  the  first 
will  that  has  been  mislaid." 

"Yes,   it   is    an    old    story,"    said  Charlotte. 


NEXT  MORNING.  251 

Then  to  gain  time,  she  added,  "  What  have  you 
to  suggest?" 

What  he  had  to  suggest,  Corliss  found  it  diffi 
cult  to  state,  with  Charlotte's  clear  eyes  upon 
him.  He  began  by  referring  lamely  to  the  in 
jury  done  him  when  the  Petrie  estate  was  taken 
out  of  his  hands.  He  spoke  of  the  opportunity 
for  reparation,  and  her  eyes  narrowed  as  she 
listened.  He  hinted,  not  skillfully,  at  favors 
done  her,  and  implied  that  silence  as  to  the  will 
might  be  considered  a  very  great  favor.  "  Sim 
ply  to  save  annoyance,  that 's  all.  It  would  n't 
be  pleasant  for  you  in  society.  It  would  make 
talk.  I  can't  say  —  Waring  might  —  there  's  no 
telling  —  he  might  make  a  row  about  it.  It 's 
worth  your  while,  that 's  all  I  say,  it 's  hand 
somely  worth  your  while  to  keep  this  thing 
quiet."  At  this  step  Corliss  found  himself  again 
proceeding  with  difficulty.  Charlotte's  stern 
eyes  and  firm  mouth  did  not  inspire  him  to  elo 
quence.  He  explained  but  haltingly  that  where 
injury  was  done  and  where  favors  were  received, 
it  was  the  custom  of  the  business  world  to  render 
a  money  equivalent. 

"  Do  I  understand  you  ?  "  said  Charlotte. 

Corliss  was  accustomed  to  bring  business  mat 
ters  down  to  the  level  of  a  woman's  intelligence. 
He  did  precisely  what  Charlotte  intended  him 
to  do ;  he  repeated  his  proposition  in  simple  and 


252  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

explicit  terms.  Charlotte  smiled  at  him,  the 
first  time  in  her  life  that  she  had  smiled  falsely. 
She  led  him  on  to  the  full  statement  of  his  pro 
ject.  Then  she  rose,  and  stood  before  him. 
"  And  now,  sir,  will  you  leave  my  house  ?  "  She 
spoke  quietly,  but  she  seemed  to  flash  fire  in  his 
face.  He  could  not  look  at  her  as  he  struggled 
to  his  feet.  He  turned  away  from  her  as  he 
spoke. 

"  You  think  you  can  get  hold  of  that  will,  do 
you  ?  and  nobody  be  the  wiser  ?  That  will 's  as 
good  as  the  day  it  was  signed." 

He  looked  obliquely  at  her,  to  steal  the  effect 
of  this ;  but  the  concentrated  scorn  and  anger  in 
her  face  were  more  than  he  could  meet.  "  Cer 
tainly,"  she  said,  "  I  saw  that." 

"  You  're  too  late  to  put  that  will  out  of  the 
way  now.  You  might  have  done  it !  Try  it 
now,  —  yes,  try  it  now,  and  you  '11  make  all  the 
prettier  little  scandal.  I  warn  you  what 's  be 
fore  you,"  he  said,  wheeling  about  as  he  reached 
the  door,  and  delivering  his  threat  after  the 
manner  of  his  favorite  melodrama.  "  This  little 
document  will  be  filed  for  probate  to-morrow, 
and  as  far  as  I  can  see,  you  are  a  penniless 
woman ! " 

Charlotte  had  rung  for  a  servant,  as  Corliss 
had  angrily  observed.  "  If  you  want  this  over 
heard,  it 's  nothing  to  me."  As  he  flung  out  the 


NEXT  MOENING.  253 

last  sentence  of  his  parting  speech,  the  well-bred 
maid  appeared. 

"  Mary,  open  the  door  for  Mr.  Corliss."  The 
two  exchanged  a  look  while  Mary  adjusted  the 
latch.  There  was  sound  mutual  hatred  in  the 
glance.  Corliss's  chagrin  was  mitigated  by  the 
sweet  anticipation  of  revenge,  while  Charlotte 
was  not  without  triumph  in  the  second  disap 
pointment  she  was  preparing  for  him. 

When  the  door  had  closed  upon  Corliss,  Char 
lotte  did  not  pause  to  reflect  upon  what  had 
happened.  She  was  roused  from  the  lassitude 
and  despair  of  the  past  twenty-four  hours.  A 
great  blow  had  struck  her,  but  she  was  not  so 
much  stunned  as  exhilarated.  Her  nervous 
energy  was  almost  joyous  as  she  determined, 
without  hesitation,  upon  her  course.  Her  life  — 
one  life  —  was  at  an  end  ;  there  was  passionate 
satisfaction  in  hastening  the  work  of  destruction. 
The  roof  over  her  head  was  not  her  own,  had 
never  been  her  own,  she  thought  with  terror  and 
consternation.  Her  home  —  and  a  shudder  ran 
from  head  to  foot  —  belonged  to  him.  She 
would  leave  it  that  day.  Aunt  Cornelia,  a  week 
ago,  had  returned  to  her  home  in  the  Connect 
icut  valley.  Charlotte  would  take  the  three 
o'clock  train,  and  would  sleep  that  night  shel 
tered  by  her  aunt. 

"  Mary,"  she  said,  in  a  bright,  clear  voice,  "  I 


254  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

am  going  away  this  afternoon.  I  want  you  to 
get  ready  a  few  things  for  me,  in  a  small  trunk. 
But,  first  order  the  carriage  for  me,  Mary." 

Charlotte  drove  first  to  Keyser  Street.  The 
visit  was  not  unlike  many  that  she  had  made 
there ;  but  nothing  that  she  did  or  said  seemed 
to  have  reality.  That  she  was  speaking  to  her 
people  perhaps  for  the  last  time  made  no  im 
pression  on  her.  There  was  a  humming  in  her 
ears ;  she  seemed  to  hear  her  own  voice  as  if  it 
were  another  person's.  She  heard  herself  saying 
a  dozen  things  that  apparently  fitted  the  case. 
She  mechanically  attended  to  several  business 
matters,  and  listened  to  herself  as  she  told  one 
and  another  that  she  was  going  away  not  to  re 
turn  for  the  present.  Only  once  did  she  come 
to.  herself.  This  was  when,  for  a  moment,  she 
went  into  the  kindergarten  room.  A  child  came 
and  stood  beside  her,  then  took  hold  of  her  dress 
and  gazed  anxiously  up  into  her  face.  Charlotte 
looked  down  upon  it,  saw  only  that  the  little 
hand  was  thin,  and  could  bear  no  more.  Her 
eyes  brimming  with  tears,  she  escaped  to  her 
carriage. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
AT  WAKING'S  DESK. 

"  I  WISH  to  see  Mr.  Waring,"  Charlotte  said 
to  the  first  official-looking  person  she  met  on 
entering  the  Citizen  building. 

"Five  floors  up."  Brevity  and  condensation 
made  the  first  impression  of  the  great  newspaper 
building.  The  rapid  elevator,  without  seats,  be 
spoke  the  same  haste  and  compression,  as  it  also 
implied  the  absence  of  ladies.  It  was  only  the 
tension  of  Charlotte's  nerves  that  held  her  cour 
age  to  the  task  before  her.  Waring,  in  his  mas 
culine  environment,  seemed  receding  farther  and 
farther.  As  she  approached  his  office,  she  would 
gladly  have  beaten  a  retreat,  had  she  not  been 
under  the  eye  of  the  elevator  boy.  "  Fourth 
door  to  the  right,"  he  commanded  her,  in  the 
language  of  the  place.  Charlotte  stood  troubled 
and  bewildered.  She  had  never  before  found 
herself  in  such  surroundings  ;  she  had  not  asked 
or  thought  whether  such  a  visit  was  unusual. 
Before  she  left  the  city  at  three  o'clock  she  must 
see  Richard  Waring ;  there  was  a  chance  of  her 


256  THE  FETRIE  ESTATE. 

finding  him  at  his  office.  Her  action  had  been 
no  more  complicated  than  that.  The  elevator 
door  shut  to  with  a  click  behind  her,  and  she 
felt  that  escape  was  cut  off.  Her  coming,  which 
had  seemed  to  her  the  simple,  inevitable  thing 
to  do,  suddenly  looked  confused  and  question 
able.  She  was  stricken  with  self-consciousness. 
Why  had  she  not  gone  first  to  the  lawyers  of 
her  cousin  ?  or  only  to  the  lawyers  ?  Had  she 
come  to  this  public  place  to  make  a  scene  ?  Men 
passed  her,  and  looked  at  her,  but  with  no  rude 
ness.  Yet  she  felt  the  inward  shrinking  and 
shriveling  of  a  delicate  nature  when  it  has  crossed 
by  a  hair's-breadth  the  border  of  its  own  world. 
The  outward  effect,  however,  was  to  give  her  an 
air  of  pride  and  purity  that  would  have  made 
her  presence  anywhere  unquestioned. 

It  was  but  an  instant  that  Charlotte  stood  in 
her  miserable  shyness. and  hesitation.  Through 
an  open  door  she  caught  sight  of  a  middle-aged 
woman  seated  before  a  typewriter.  Charlotte 
loved  her  for  being  there ;  and  turned  cour 
ageously  towards  the  fourth  door  to  the  right. 
Before  she  could  reach  it  the  door  opened  sud 
denly,  and  a  voice  called,  "  Here,  you,  boy,  come 
back  here  !  "  She  had  never  heard  this  accent 
from  Waring,  but  it  was  unmistakably  his  voice. 
She  hastened  forward,  timid  and  desperate,  as 
she  spoke  his  name. 


AT  WAKING'S  DESK.  257 

"  Miss  Coverdale  !  "  Had  Waring  been  a  few 
years  younger,  he  would  have  made  elaborate 
efforts  to  conceal  his  astonishment.  As  it  was, 
he  appeared  delighted,  and  begged  her  to  come 
in.  Charlotte,  in  her  resolve  not  to  be  sensa 
tional  about  her  sensational  errand,  was  extrav 
agantly  quiet  in  her  manner.  They  sat  down 
together  by  a  huge  working  desk,  so  full  of  busi 
ness  that  no  visitor  could  face  it  without  the 
guilty  sense  that  he  was  an  interruption.  It  had 
its  effect  upon  Charlotte,  and  made  her  briefer 
even  than  she  intended  to  be.  Nor  had  Waring 
his  look  of  leisure.  The  indolence  of  a  busy 
man  had  had  a  singular  charm  for  Charlotte. 
Now  there  were  all  the  signs  of  work  about  him. 
He  wore  an  easy-going  coat  tending  to  shabbi- 
ness,  and  he  had  probably  been  running  his  fin 
gers  through  his  hair  five  minutes  before.  He 
had  a  far-sighted,  anxious  look  in  his  eyes,  which 
was  not  reached  or  dispelled  by  the  smile  about 
his  lips  as  he  spoke  to  Charlotte.  Nor  did  she, 
in  turn,  appear  quite  natural  to  him.  His  most 
familiar  impression  of  her  was  that  of  the  even 
ing,  when  there  was  a  flow  and  color  about  her 
attire  quite  different  from  the  effect  of  the  dark, 
close  traveling  dress  that  she  now  wore.  Her 
manner  was  likewise  restrained  and  subdued. 
As  Charlotte  sat  looking  past  him,  out  upon  the 
spire  of  old  Trinity,  again  in  their  experience, 


258  THE  PETE1E  ESTATE. 

the  strangeness  of  the  place  isolated  them  and 
raised  their  consciousness  of  each  other.  The 
sight  of  her  for  the  first  time  in  the  scene  of  his 
daily  life  was  an  epoch-making  moment,  fruitful 
in  pain  or  joy  for  the  future,  altogether  and  im 
measurably  sweet  while  it  lasted. 

Charlotte  began  to  state  her  errand.  She 
held  her  hands  in  her  lap,  one  pressed  tight  in 
the  other,  thus  to  keep  her  frame  from  trem 
bling.  She  spoke  low,  that  her  voice  might  not 
quiver. 

"  I  am  going  away  to-day,"  she  said ;  and 
Waring  picked  up  a  pencil  from  his  desk,  lie 
saw  that  she  had  something  to  tell  him :  he  could 
only  think  that  he  had  something  to  tell  her. 
His  story  could  not  be  told  in  this  place.  The 
oppression  of  what  he  had  to  say  to  her,  and 
the  resolve  not  to  say  it  then  and  there,  resulted 
in  a  manner  dry  and  lifeless,  even  to  his  own 
ear. 

"  I  am  going  away  to-day,"  Charlotte  repeated 
in  a  low  monotone.  "•  I  wanted  to  see  you  be 
fore  I  went." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,"  Waring  replied, 
not  at  all  to  his  satisfaction. 

"  I  had  some  important  business."  She  did 
not  look  at  him.  "  A  paper  has  been  found." 

"Indeed?"  The  restraint  of  this  exclama 
tion  Charlotte  thought  she  perfectly  understood. 


AT  WAKING'S  DESK.  259 

"  A  paper  that  shows  a  great  mistake  has  been 
made." 

Waring  could  say  nothing.  He  laid  down 
one  pencil  and  took  up  another. 

"  The  property  I  have  held  has  not  been  mine 
at  all."  The  quiet  with  which  she  spoke  was 
maintained  at  a  terrible  nervous  cost. 

"  It  has  belonged  to  you.  A  will  has  been 
found.  It  was  shown  to  me.  I  read  it  care 
fully.  I  wrote  it  out  as  I  remembered  it.  Here 
is  the  copy." 

She  held  it  out  to  him,  and  he  took  it  without 
a  word  and  pretended  to  read  it.  There  was  the 
stillness  of  a  great  scene,  when  only  clocks  tick 
and  hearts  beat.  People  passed  and  repassed 
the  open  door.  To  their  eyes  the  editor  was 
looking  over  a  manuscript  submitted  to  him  by 
a  lady  writer.  Charlotte  clasped  her  hands 
tighter ;  "Waring  set  his  mouth  firmer.  Finally, 
he  laid  the  paper  down,  and  they  looked  at  each 
other.  It  was  as  if  there  were  an  obstructing 
medium  between  them,  quivering'  and  palpitating 
like  the  air  of  a  hot  midsummer  noon ;  no  word 
or  sign  could  cross  or  penetrate  the  tremulous 
ether. 

"  How  did  you  come  by  this,  Miss  Cover- 
dale?"  said  Waring. 

Charlotte  answered. 

"  That  was  the  story  the  fellow  told  you  ?  " 


260  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

"Yes." 

Waring  thought  it  best  to  accept  this  version 
for  the  present. 

"  I  suppose  this  will  have  to  go  to  your  cou 
sin's  lawyers,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  I  am  going  there  immediately.  But 
I  wanted  you  to  know."  Charlotte  felt  her 
strength  giving  way,  and  she  took  fresh  hold  of 
herself.  She  added  coldly,  "  Perhaps  you  will 
see  them  later  in  the  day." 

"  Let  me  go  now,  with  you,"  said  Waring  im 
petuously. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said  gently.  "  I  could  not. 
I  hope  they  will  attend  to  these  matters  at  once. 
I  want  to  be  —  I  would  rather  be  free." 

Waring  could  only  look  at  her  as  she  gazed 
out  of  the  window. 

"  One  thing  I  ought  to  tell  you,"  she  said  in 
her  controlled  voice.  "  A  large  part  of  the  Pe- 
trie  estate  was  invested  in  tenement-house  prop 
erty.  I  have  greatly  reduced  the  income  ;  they 
say  I  have  injured  the  property.  I  do  not  know 
what  legal  means  can  be  taken  to  set  the  matter 
right  with  you.  I  have  been  spending,  from 
the  first,  money  that  wras  not  my  own."  Her 
voice  at  last  betrayed  her,  and  Waring's  heart 
was  wrung  by  the  sight  of  her  afflicted  pride. 
It  was  more  than  he  could  bear.  His  impulse 
was  to  rush  to  her  rescue  with  a  thorough-going 


AT  WAKING'S  DESK.  261 

lie,  and  let  his  conscience  have  it  out  with  him. 
He  compromised,  and  told  her  a  half-truth. 

"  Miss  Coverdale,  you  have  done  nothing  that 
you  had  not  a  right  to  do.  There  was  no  one  to 
question  for  a  moment  your  legal  right.  The 
provisions  of  the  will  are  not  yet  in  force.  You 
are  in  legal  possession  until  the  actual  paper  is 
in  our  hands." 

Nothing  that  Waring  could  have  said,  no 
words  of  love  that  he  could  have  spoken,  would 
at  that  moment  have  yielded  Charlotte  comfort 
so  profound  as  did  this  assurance.  She  felt  that 
the  greatest  wrong  of  all  had  been  righted.  She 
had  resented  bitterly  that  money  had  been  thrust 
upon  her  which  was  lawfully  another's.  She  had 
longed  to  believe  just  what  Waring  had  told 
her,  and  now,  looking  earnestly  at  him,  believed 
it  without  more  question.  Her  wounded  deli 
cacy  was  soothed,  and  her  dignity  restored  in 
the  sight  of  the  man  whom  she  most  desired  to 
be  absolutely  right  with. 

"  I  am  very  thankful,''  she  said,  with  her  full 
voice  again.  Its  coldness  and  control  vanished. 
"  You  will  not  blame  me  for  what  I  have  done. 
I  know  you,  and  I  trust  you." 

Waring  bowed  his  head.  "  I  thank  you,"  he 
said,  without  looking  at  her.  If  he  had  met  her 
eyes  that  instant,  he  would  have  said  the  one 
thing  that  he  had  to  say  to  her.  Still  guarding 


262  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

himself,  lie  turned  with  a  polite  speech  that  chilled 
her  blood.  She  rose  to  go.  Waring  did  not 
behave  at  all  like  a  desperate  man,  but  he  felt 
like  one,  as  he  followed  her  out.  His  polite 
speech  he  repeated,  in  stronger  language,  with 
rising  emotion.  She  did  not  answer,  but  looked 
back  at  him  with  a  face  he  never  forgot.  Char 
lotte  and  Waring  had  carried  the  interview 
through,  as  both  had  resolved,  without  making  a 
scene,  and  now  they  were  parting.  At  the  last 
moment,  both  longed  for  a  scene,  for  anything 
to  get  at  the  truth !  They  were  both  in  trouble, 
—  Charlotte  could  see  it  in  110  other  way  ;  and 
both  were  powerless  to  say,  I  am  sorry  for  you. 
Had  they  been  ten  years  younger,  the  scene 
would  have  come  of  itself  ;  as  it  was,  they  parted 
with  miserable  decorum.  The  situation  had 
been  beyond  their  grasp. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

FROM    MRS.    BISBEE    TO    AUNT    CORNELIA. 

CHARLOTTE  paid  her  visit  to  James  Petrie's 
lawyers.  Afterwards,  upon  her  way  home,  she 
stopped  at  Mrs.  Bisbee's  house,  and  begged  her 
to  lunch  with  her.  The  good  lady  put  on  her 
rigolette  and  trotted  across  the  park,  "  wonder 
ing  to  herself,"  as  she  expressed  it. 

"Dear  Mrs.  Bisbee!  "  Charlotte  said  so  grate 
fully  that  Mrs.  Bisbee  was  prepared  for  confi 
dences. 

"A  great  change  is  coming  over  my  life," 
said  Charlotte,  and  Mrs.  Bisbee  lighted  up. 

"  My  dear  girl !  "  she  cried.  "  I  have  seen  it. 
I  have  seen  it  from  the  first." 

Charlotte  turned  pale.  "  Oh,  no,  no,  not 
that !  "  And  the  color  rushed  back  upon  her. 

Mrs.  Bisbee  looked  as  if  she  did  not  believe 
Charlotte.  She  had  a  gift  for  congratulation. 
She  loved  to  dwell  upon  the  happiness  of  her 
friends,  to  dilate  and  expand  it,  and  to  convince 
a  young  girl  that  she  was  to  marry  the  best  fel 
low  in  the  world,  and  was  to  make  him  a  wife  of 


264  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

a  price  above  rubies.  She  was  an  earnest  advo 
cate  of  matrimony.  It  was  rumored  that  the 
late  Mr.  Bisbee  had  been  trying,  not  to  say  a 
trial.  Nevertheless,  his  widow  maintained  to  her 
self  that  there  had  been  a  balance  of  happiness 
in  her  favor.  "  Only  take  care,  my  dear,"  she 
would  say,  "  not  to  marry  any  man  who  is  not 
severely  good.  The  rest  is  very  unimportant ; 
he  may  be  rich  or  poor,  learned  or  unlearned ;  if 
there  is  love  and  character,  you  cannot  be  un 
happy.  Is  marriage  a  failure?  Some  heretics 
are  saying  so.  Ye  believe  in  God,  believe  also 
in  humanity,"  Mrs.  Bisbee  would  end  solemnly. 
"There  is  blasphemy  against  the  human  race 
abroad  in  these  days." 

"  I  want  to  tell  you,"  Charlotte  now  con 
tinued,  —  "  you  are  the  only  one."  She  drew 
Mrs.  Bisbee  down  beside  her. 

Mrs.  Bisbee  listened  with  round  eyes  and  sig 
nificant  nods. 

"  It  happens  at  a  fortunate  time,"  said  Char 
lotte.  "  The  winter  is  over,  and  people  are  go 
ing  into  the  country.  It  will  seem  natural 
enough  for  me  to  go  away  now.  By  the  au 
tumn  everything  will  be  settled,  and  I  shall  sim 
ply  have  dropped  out.  I  shall  hardly  be  missed, 
except  in  Keyser  Street.  People  are  scattered, 
and  will  not  make  so  much  of  the  story  when 
it  comes  out,  as  I  suppose  it  will  have  to." 


FROM  MRS.  BISBEE  TO  AUNT  CORNELIA.    265 

"  Child,"  said  Mrs.  Bisbee,  "  are  you  talking 
to  deceive  me  or  to  deceive  yourself  ?  I  have 
always  thought  you  truthful.  There  are  sub 
jects,  then,  that  even  a  woman  like  you  must  dis 
semble.  You  know  that  Richard  Waring  loves 
you.  Don't  dare  tell  me  you  don't !  " 

"  I  don't  know  it !  "  Charlotte  cried  wildly. 
"  You  must  not  say  such  things,  Mrs.  Bisbee. 
You  are  romantic.  You  want  everybody  in 
love,"  she  said  tragically,  and  Mrs.  Bisbee 
laughed. 

"  Mr.  Richard  Waring  has  been  unlucky  to 
have  this  accident  happen.  I  am  sorry  for  him. 
Before  this  occurred,  the  course  of  true  love  was 
running  very  smooth,  if  my  old  eyes  were  to  be 
trusted.  No,  no,  no !  Let  me  speak.  I  pity 
the  man  now,  placed  in  the  position  he  is. 
Poor  child,  your  hand  trembles.  Let  me  warm 
it  in  mine.  There,  there,  there  !  Yes,  I  am 
sorry  for  him,  all  the  more  because  I  see  you 
are  bent  on  making  it  as  hard  as  possible  for 
him.  You  are  running  away  from  him  now, 
and,  by  all  accounts,  you  behaved  there  in  his 
office  like  a  marble  image.  But  you  are  quite 
right  to  go  to  your  aunt.  You  ought  not  to 
be  left  alone  a  moment  now.  Before  you  go, 
let  me  give  you  one  piece  of  advice :  don't  make 
it  too  hard  for  him.  Follow  your  heart :  be 
great  enough  woman  for  that.  A  syllable  of  in- 


266  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

sincerity  now,  and  you  may  miss  your  happiness 
and  spoil  his.  Dear,  I  know.  Nothing  but 
truth  will  carry  people  through  great  crises. 
One  thing  more:  if  you  have  a  scene  to  go 
through  with  him,  don't  prepare  for  it.  There 
are  times  when  it  is  far  better  not  to  think  be 
fore  you  speak."  Mrs.  Bisbee  paused.  "  Dear 
child,  praise  God  for  one  thing :  you  two  people 
have  done  each  other  wrong,  but  without  wrong 
doing  on  the  part  of  either.  That  is  not  often 
the  way." 

Mrs.  Bisbee's  earnestness  had  stirred  Char 
lotte  for  the  moment,  but  she  fell  into  greater 
sadness  as  she  answered  her  friend. 

"  Mrs.  Bisbee,  you  do  not  know  all  the  facts 
in  the  case.  Mr.  "Waring  has  for  a  long  time 
been  devoted  to  a  beautiful  young  girl  —  much 
younger  than  I.  She  has  a  luxurious  home,  and 
he  would  not  take  her  from  it  to  live  in  a  poorer 
one ;  that  was  his  point  of  view,  and  it  was  her 
mother's  and  her  own.  Now  all  that  is  changed. 
Now  he  can  marry  Grace  Hathaway." 

"  Fiddlesticks  !  "  said  Mrs.  Bisbee,  with  a 
sudden  descent  in  style.  "  He  's  not  such  a 
fool." 

Charlotte  praised  Grace,  in  self-martyrdom. 

"  That  is  not  to  the  point.  The  man  is  in 
love  with  somebody  else." 

"  No !    You    should   have   seen    him  to-day. 


FROM  MRS.  1USBEE  TO  AUNT  CORNELIA.    267 

And  you  should  know  how  indifferent  he  has 
been  lately." 

"  You  want  to  hear  me  contradict  you. 
Mind  what  I  say  about  sincerity.  Did  n't  you 
mean  to  give  me  a  bite  before  I  went  to  the  train 
with  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bisbee  accompanied  Charlotte  to  the  sta 
tion,  with  a  running-  fire  of  raillery  and  wisdom. 
Neither  book  nor  magazine  was  opened  on  the 
journey.  Charlotte  watched  the  flying-  country 
dreamily  and  heavily,  informing-  it  with  her  own 
experience,  and  receiving  from  it  in  turn  a 
throng  of  new  suggestions.  The  hamlets  by  the 
way  had  looked  to  her  in  times  past  but  clusters 
of  humble  houses,  only  differing  in  degrees  of 
paint ;  now,  to  her  eye,  houses  were  homes, 
founded  on  the  very  love  that  was  in  her  own 
heart.  She  looked  out  upon  them  with  a  hope 
so  strenuous  that  it  was  a  prayer,  and  besought 
that  love  might  endure  in  each  little  home.  She 
was  quicker  to  learn  through  the  heart  than  she 
had  been  before.  The  excitement  of  new  know 
ledge  allayed  for  a  time  her  sadness.  As  she 
sped  011  her  way,  she  became  filled  with  a  sense 
of  privilege,  that  she,  too,  was  permitted  to  love, 
and  suffer,  and  learn.  Then,  by  degrees,  the 
fatigue  of  the  day  settled  upon  her,  and  blank 
despondency  came  over  her.  She  looked  out  into 
the  gathering  darkness,  ready  to  accept  its  sym- 


268  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

holism,  also.  She  sat  with  closed  eyes,  and  felt 
herself  reduced  to  one  absorbing  pain.  Once 
Charlotte  had  met  with  an  accident  in  driving, 
and  had  known  for  the  first  time  physical  pain 
which  seemed  to  leave  to  her  nothing ;  no  mind, 
no  faith,  and  hardly  a  consciousness  of  head  or 
hands.  Such  an  hour  she  knew  again  as  the 
night  closed  in  and  the  land  grew  dark. 

To  aunt  Cornelia,  on  Charlotte's  arrival,  her 
niece  appeared  to  be  suffering  from  a  blinding 
headache.  With  the  elder  lady's  dread  of 
travel,  this  seemed  the  natural  result  of  a  jour 
ney  "  in  the  cars." 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  get  home  !  "  said  Charlotte, 
looking  about  with  haggard,  unnatural  eyes. 

"  It  does  me  good  to  hear  you  call  it  home, 
dear." 

Charlotte  took  her  aunt's  hand  in  both  hers, 
and  then  told  her  in  few  words  the  events  of 
the  day.  "  I  cannot  talk  about  it  to-night,  dear 
aunt  Cornelia.  I  must  go  to  bed  and  rest  and 
try  to  think." 

Aunt  Cornelia  was  speechless  with  sympathy 
and  indignation.  "  All  I  can  say  is  "  —  she 
began  several  times.  Her  anger  was  not  di 
rected  against  any  individual,  but  all  blame  for 
what  had  occurred  was  laid  upon  New  York. 

"  I  am  glad  we  have  got  you  away  from  that 
—  great  city"  she  managed  to  say  at  last.  She 


FROM  MRS.  BISBEE  TO  AUNT  CORNELIA.    269 

hesitated  as  to  whether  she  should  use  a  harsher 
term  for  New  York  ;  but  aunt  Cornelia  was  able 
to  pronounce  great  city  so  as  to  give  it  the  sound 
of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah. 

The  good  lady  had  a  very  rational  regret 
that  her  niece  had  lost  a  fortune ;  and  yet  she 
had  from  the  first  had  a  faint  grudge  against 
Charlotte's  wealth.  It  was  inherited  from  the 
other  side  of  the  family,  of  whom  Miss  Cornelia 
always  spoke  in  the  highest  terms ;  again,  it  was, 
locally,  a  New  York  fortune,  which  led  to  the 
calamity  of  a  permanent  absence  from  New  Eng 
land.  Miss  Cornelia's  provincialism  was  soft- 
spoken,  but  invincible.  She  had  generalized  as 
to  the  tenure  of  fortunes  in  New  York,  and  saw 
in  Charlotte's  experience  only  a  characteristic 
upheaval.  "  They  "  tore  up  their  fortunes  as 
"  they  "  tore  up  their  streets,  —  that  was  plain 
enough. 

"  Varied  experiences,  varied  experiences  !  " 
she  repeated.  Her  temperate  speech  afforded 
nothing  stronger  that  night.  Nor,  although  she 
saw  that  trouble  was  upon  her  darling,  could 
she  say  much  by  way  of  sympathy.  She  fol 
lowed  her  niece  to  her  room,  with  a  blanket 
upon  her  arm.  To  supply  her  guest  with  an 
abundance  of  bedclothing  was  a  fine  rite  of 
hospitality  never  neglected  by  aunt  Cornelia. 
"  Wouldn't  you  like  another  blanket,  dear 


270  THE  PETE  IE  ESTATE: 

child  ?  "  meant  love  and  tenderness  indeed  be 
yond  speech. 

When  the  door  of  Charlotte's  room  had  closed 
upon  her  she  caught  sight  of  herself  in  her  glass. 
She  looked  old  and  dull-eyed.  Color  and  ex 
pression  had  vanished  from  her  face.  She  ap 
peared  to  see  in  the  mirror  the  woman  she  was 
henceforth  to  be,  with  light,  and  youth,  and 
bloom  departed  from  her  life.  She  fell  upon 
her  bed,  and  lay  upon  her  face,  her  head  below 
the  pillow  ;  she  abandoned  herself  to  discomfort, 
seeking  sympathy  for  her  agony  of  heart. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

THROUGH  ANOTHER  DAY. 

ONE  who  knew  Miss  Cornelia  Coverdale  felt 
at  once  that  the  house  she  lived  in  was  inevitable. 
The  clean  white  paint  and  shining-  windows,  the 
slim-legged  furniture  and  sprigged  china  could 
not  have  been  ordered  otherwise.  The  house 
fairly  sinelled  of  cleanliness  and  respectability. 
The  parlor  was  as  consistent  as  the  character  of 
Miss  Cornelia  herself,  and  was  as  highly  re 
spected  in  the  community.  In  one  corner  stood 
the  tiny  old  piano,  on  which,  of  a  Sunday  night, 
Miss  Cornelia  played  hymns,  and  on  week-days 
played  faded,  old-fashioned  waltzes,  quite  out  of 
time,  with  a  sentimental  rhythm  of  her  own. 
There  was  a  bookcase  with  diamond  -  paned 
doors  containing  books  clad  in  brown  or  black. 
These  had  been  singularly  uninviting  to  Char 
lotte  at  the  period  when  she  selected  a  book 
according  to  its  green  and  gold  binding  and  to 
its  broken  pages  of  dialogue.  She  had  since 
grown  to  love  those  russet  volumes  of  the  palmy 
days  of  American  literature.  Across  the  room 


272  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

was  the  embroidered  fire-screen  which  had 
played  a  part  in  Charlotte's  childhood.  Its  sub 
ject  was  Sir  Walter  Scott  and  his  Dogs,  and 
the  little  girl's  imagination  was  long  troubled  to 
identify  the  author  of  her  beloved  "  Ivanhoe  " 
with  this  gentleman  in  cross-stitch,  of  the  pink 
worsted  cheeks  and  the  blue  bead  eyes.  On  the 
walls  hung  old  engravings,  and  photographs  of 
works  of  art.  These  latter  had  been  brought 
by  friends  from  Europe,  and  were  respected 
and  hung  because  of  their  source  rather  than 
because  Miss  Cornelia  at  all  times  relished  their 
subjects.  "  Europe,"  be  it  noticed,  was  a  word 
spoken  by  her  as  reverently  as  "  Boston." 

All  the  appointments  of  Miss  Cornelia's 
house,  I  say,  are  calculable,  and  therefore  need 
not  be  further  described.  The  veriest  Bohemian 
could  not  have  visited  it  without  confessing  that 
even  respectability  has  a  charm  of  its  own. 

"  Let  me  have  a  good  look  at  you,  dear.  Let 
me  see  how  you  have  slept.  A  little  pale  yet," 
said  aunt  Cornelia  next  morning.  She  had 
thought  much  about  the  events  of  the  previous 
day,  and  had  now  found  words  to  express  her 
self  with  unwonted  energy. 

"  Charlotte,  I  cannot  forgive  their  blundering. 
To  have  taken  you  out  of  your  peaceful  life, 
and  to  have  dragged  you  to  that  great  city,  and 
given  you  a  year  of  confusion,  and  disturbance 


THROUGH  ANOTHER  DAY.  273 

of  all  your  ways!  "  —for  "  ways"  were,  above 
all  things,  dear  to  aunt  Cornelia.  "To  have 
unsettled  and  interrupted  you  so,  and  then  to 
leave  you  like  this  !  I  can't  be  reconciled  !  " 

"  I  am  going  to  begin  all  over  again,"  said 
Charlotte  cheerfully.  "  The  year's  experience 
has  been  no  loss  to  me  —  great  gain,  rather." 

She  was  fresh  in  her  morning  strength,  and 
thought  gladly  how  much  the  change  of  scene 
had  already  done  for  her.  She  felt  strong  and 
confident  in  her  self-control.  Then  she  remem 
bered  something  that  Richard  Waring  had  once 
said  to  her.  She  did  not  observe  by  what  an 
ingenious  association  of  ideas  she  was  so  con 
stantly  reminded  of  him,  or  by  what  a  remarkable 
exercise  of  memory.  This  he  had  said  to  her : 
the  Puritan  temperament  is  to  the  Puritan  heart 
as  the  governor  is  to  the  steam-engine.  You 
may  have  so  large  a  governor  and  take  so  much 
of  the  power  to  drive  it  that  you  cannot  obtain 
the  best  results  from  the  engine.  Charlotte  re 
called  this  and  disputed  it.  She  exulted  in  her 
self-control.  Her  constructive  mind  was  already 
at  work  upon  a  scheme  which,  she  felt  sure, 
would  obtain  the  best  results  from  the  engine, 
although  she  was  aware  of  the  tremendous  power 
expended  in  governing  her  heart.  She  unfolded 
her  plans  to  aunt  Cornelia.  In  the  large,  old- 
fashioned  house  she  proposed  that  they  should 


274  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

establish  a  school,  and  she  wrote  out  a  circular, 
setting  forth  the  advantages  offered.  Her  aunt 
approved  without  a  question,  glad  to  have  her 
niece  at  home  on  any  terms. 

"  It  seems  the  best  thing  you  could  do,  with 
your  experience  and  your  fondness  for  young 
girls." 

That  was  what  Charlotte  had  in  former  days 
liked  best  to  have  said  to  her  ;  but  her  aunt's 
speech  now  fell  upon  her  heart  with  a  dull  thud. 

"  Dear  aunt  Cornelia,  it  is  next  to  the  best 
life  that  a  woman  can  lead." 

"  "Well,  perhaps  what  you  mean  is  true.  But 
I  can  say  that  I  have  been  very  happy  as  an 
aunt."  The  old  lady  had  laid  her  hand  upon 
Charlotte  —  her  utmost  caress. 

Charlotte  hung  about  her  aunt  all  the  morn 
ing,  following  her  up  and  down  stairs,  and  out 
into  the  garden.  They  dropped  out  of  sight  the 
past  year,  and  took  up  the  old  familiar  times 
when  neither  James  Petrie  nor  Richard  Waring 
had  existed  for  Charlotte.  Her  aunt  delighted 
in  ignoring  New  York,  and  she  herself  felt  that 
there  was  safety  in  it.  Aunt  Cornelia,  with 
garden  gloves  and  scissors,  snipped  and  clipped, 
and  talked  the  while  more  freely  and  content 
edly  than  Charlotte  had  heard  her  for  many  a 
day.  She  was  unselfishly  glad  that  her  aunt 
was  not  to  be  thrust  out  again  into  that  strange 


THROUGH  ANOTHER  DAY.  275 

and  awful  city.  They  sat  down  by  and  by  on  a 
bench  in  the  spring1  sunshine. 

"  I  often  think  of  what  Dorothy  Wordsworth 
said,"  began  Miss  Cornelia,  in  her  most  com 
fortable  tones.  As  Charlotte  listened,  she  was 
full  of  peace  and  affection,  and  wondered  why 
she  was  not  satisfied  to  remain  in  that  place  and 
that  mood  forever. 

The  midday  dinner  over,  Charlotte  left  her 
aunt  for  the  first  time  and  went  to  her  room. 
A  swift  change  came  over  her.  The  light  went 
out  as  it  had  done  before.  Resolved  not  to 
indulge  her  misery,  she  busied  herself  about 
many  little  things.  She  set  her  bureau  drawers 
in  order,  and  put  away  carefully  and  perma 
nently  the  contents  of  her  trunk.  She  took  as 
many  unnecessary  steps  as  possible,  and  did  and 
undid  several  times  whatever  she  put  her  hand 
to.  Her  mind  would  not  enter  into  what  she 
was  about.  All  that  it  would  do  was  to  pursue 
up  and  down  two  lines  of  verse,  as  she  carried 
something  from  one  side  of  the  room  to  the 
other,  and  then  back  again. 

"  The  sad  mechanic  exercise 
Like  dull  narcotics  numbing  pain." 

The  lifeless  monotone  in  which  she  murmured 
the  words  broke  down  in  a  moan  or  a  tearless 
sob,  and  her  voice  seemed  too  faint  to  go  on. 
Yet,  as  long  as  breath  lasted,  she  kept  on  with 


276  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

the  refrain  :  "  Like  dull  narcotics  numbing  pain." 
The  subtle  quality  of  the  verse  appeared,  in 
deed,  to  benumb  her  at  last.  Her  feet  failed 
her,  and  she  sat  down  murmuring  still,  "  Like 
dull  narcotics  —  like  dull  narcotics  numbing 
pain."  She  laughed.  The  laugh  frightened  her, 
and  brought  her  back  to  herself. 

For  the  rest  of  that  afternoon  Charlotte  put 
forth  a  violent  effort  of  self-control.  She  read, 
and  wrote  letters,  and  dressed  carefully  for  tea. 
She  put  on  a  light  yellow  gown,  five  summers 
old. 

"  It  does  me  good  to  see  that  dress  come  out 
again,"  said  her  aunt,  as  Charlotte  came  down 
the  stairs.  "  I  should  say  there  was  a  good  deal 
of  wear  left  in  it  yet.  It  always  was  a  pretty 
dress,  with  your  dark  hair." 

Charlotte  had  a  deeper  motive  in  wearing  the 
yellow  muslin.  She  was  struggling  to  restore 
her  old  life,  and  she  fancied  she  might  feel  like 
her  former  self,  attired  in  the  dress  she  had 
worn  "  before  anything  happened."  The  result 
was  only  a  confusion  of  identity.  She  could 
not  even  look  like  her  old  self.  She  bore  the 
marks  of  suffering  and  joy ;  the  yellow  gown 
had  had  no  share  in  either.  She  would  rather 
have  worn  the  dark  traveling  dress  in  which  she 
had  had  her  last  interview  with  Waring. 

They  sat  down  to  the  tea-table,  which  might 


THROUGH  ANOTHER  DAY.  277 

have  been  standing  there  for  the  last  half  cen 
tury,  so  true  was  it  to  its  traditions.  There 
were  the  berries  in  the  same  glass  dish  ;  there 
was  the  sponge-cake,  following  air  old  and 
honorable  recipe  ;  and  there  were  the  tea-bis 
cuits  that  had  had  the  same  lightness  and  deli 
cacy  for  fifty  years,  at  least. 

The  table  was  laid  in  a  north  room,  and  oppo 
site  Charlotte  there  fell  upon  the  wall  the  re 
flected  light  from  a  glorified  window  across  the 
street.  That  northern  light  from  the  low  sun 
had  been  a  weird,  mysterious  appearance  to 
Charlotte  in  her  childhood.  In  her  present 
mood  there  were  new  interpretations  to  be  read 
everywhere.  The  pale,  delicate  sunshine  falling 
across  her  aunt's  walls  appeared  to  her  sym 
bolic  of  aunt  Cornelia's  lot ;  so  had  her  life 
been  softly  lighted  by  reflected  happiness. 
Charlotte's  eye  was  fascinated  by  the  placid,  low- 
lying  bars  of  light,  so  tender  and  still.  That 
was  the  happiness  that  she  herself  might  attain ; 
she,  too,  might  live  in  reflected  sunshine.  Ah, 
but  she  remembered  again :  Richard  Waring 
had  once  said  that  life  had  become  a  sad  thing 
when  it  took  refuge  in  altruism.  At  all  events, 
there  was  peace  in  that  pallid  sunshine,  and  for 
more  than  peace  she  would  not  ask.  There  was 
the  return  of  a  feeling  that  had  visited  her  for 
one  moment  that  afternoon.  She  had  caught 


278  THE  PETIUE  ESTATE. 

sight  below  her  open  window  of  pine  boughs 
liquefied  in  the  sunshine.  The  polished  needles 
shone  with  a  watery  brightness,  quivering  in  the 
light.  Charlotte  watched  the  dance  of  the  sun 
light  in  and  out  among  the  deep  branches ;  and 
the  beauty  of  the  sight  flashed  across  her  heart 
the  promise  that  she  might  be  happy  again.  It 
was  the  healing  of  Nature  ;  and  now  again  there 
came  to  Charlotte  the  same  stirring,  and  settling 
into  peace. 

Charlotte  and  her  aunt  sat  talking  in  the 
twilight.  At  first  they  lingered  over  the  past, 
now  more  to  aunt  Cornelia  than  the  present  or 
the  future.  They  spoke  of  Charlotte's  father 
and  mother  and  of  her  childhood.  As  the  dark 
ness  settled,  there  were  frequent  pauses,  in  which 
each  was  thinking. 

"  I  am  glad,  dear  child,  that  you  have  come 
home  again.  Now  we  can  go  on  together  in 
peace  and  contentment." 

This  speech  had  a  strange  effect  upon  Char 
lotte.  It  made  her  do  a  cruel  thing,  with  the 
sharp,  sudden  selfishness  of  love. 

"  Oh,  aunt  Cornelia,"  she  cried.  "  I  am  not 
what  you  think.  I  do  not  want  to  live  here.  I 
do  not  want  to  have  a  school  here."  She  hid 
her  face  in  her  aunt's  lap.  "  I  loved  him  so  !  " 
she  gasped. 

Aunt  Cornelia  had  never  before  heard  such  a 


THROUGH  ANOTHER  DAY.  279 

confession.  She  was  deeply  moved  by  it,  but 
chiefly  with  pity  for  Charlotte  that  she  had  be 
trayed  herself.  She  stroked  the  girl's  hair, 
striving1,  with  some  gentle,  irrelevant  remark,  to 
make  her  forget  what  she  had  said.  But  her 
compassion  and  her  confusion  were  alike  lost 
upon  Charlotte. 

"  I  will  tell  you  everything,  aunt  Cornelia. 
My  heart  will  break  if  I  do  not  tell  you.  I 
cannot  bear  it  any  longer  ! " 

"  There,  dear  !     There,  dear  !  " 

"  But  I  muxt  bear  it !  Could  n't  you  see, 
aunt  Cornelia,  there,  before  your  eyes,  how  he 
came,  and  what  was  happening  ?  And  now 
this  dreadful  thing  has  come,  and  even  if  he  had 
loved  me  —  sometimes  I  thought  he  did,  till 
lately.  Lately  he  has  been  so  distant.  Oh,  if 
I  knew  !  If  I  knew  he  loved  me,  and  kept  away 
now  because  he  could  not  offer  me  back  my  for 
tune —  But  he  does  not  love  me,  he  does  not 
love  me  !  "  It  is  the  business  of  confidantes  to 
contradict,  but  aunt  Cornelia  did  not  do  it,  and 
Charlotte's  voice  grew  harder.  "  If  he  loved 
me,  he  would  not  leave  me  here.  lie  would 
break  through  everything  and  come  to  me." 

Charlotte  did  not  venture  to  speak  again  un 
til  she  had  her  voice  under  control.  She  under 
stood  aunt  Cornelia  ;  the  dear  woman  had  done 
her  best. 


280  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

"  Aunt  Cornelia,  I  will  not  break  my  heart, 
I  will  promise  you.  Love  is  not  all  of  life,  is 
it,  aunt  Cornelia  ?  " 

"  No,  dear,"  answered  her  aunt  obediently. 

"  Perhaps  it  used  to  be,  with  women.  They 
had  nothing  else,  poor  things  !  There  are  so 
many  things  for  me  to  do ;  it  is  not  as  it  used 
to  be.  We  need  not  be  unhappy,  we  modern 
women."  And  upon  this  declaration,  Charlotte 
broke  down  in  hopeless  sobbing.  Aunt  Corne 
lia  said  nothing,  only  dropped  little  pitying 
sounds  upon  her  from  time  to  time. 

Charlotte  at  last  raised  her  head.  "  I  want 
the  air,"  she  said,  her  voice  stained  with  tears. 
"  I  will  go  into  the  garden." 

"  Not  without  a  shawl,  dear." 

Charlotte  submitted  to  a  black  shawl  over  her 
hair  and  wrapped  close  about  her  throat. 

"  The  night  air,  you  know,  dear,  —  though 
there  is  a  lovely  moon." 

She  did  not  offer  to  go  with  her  niece.  She 
had  gained  new  knowledge  of  Charlotte  in  the 
last  half  hour.  The  girl  who  had  always  ap 
peared  clear  and  simple,  "  always  to  be  de 
pended  on,"  suddenly  presented  difficulties. 
Charlotte's  exultation  in  her  modern  woman 
hood,  followed  by  a  flood  of  tears,  was  a  contra 
diction  that  baffled  aunt  Cornelia. 

Charlotte  went  into  the  garden.     By  moon- 


THROUGH  ANOTHER  DAY.  281 

light  there  was  a  sympathy  and  intimacy  in  the 
scene  that  she  had  not  felt  by  the  light  of  the 
sim.  There  was  irresistible  tenderness  in  the 
moon  that  shone  down  upon  her  ;  she  could  not 
but  turn  towards  it  the  secret  of  her  heart,  and 
cast  her  spirit  upon  the  spirit  of  the  night.  The 
moonlight  melted  trees,  shrubs,  and  grass  into 
a  garden  of  dreams  ;  and  the  night  air  subdued 
the  scents  of  the  earth  into  a  deep  fragrance 
that  was  the  very  breath  of  Nature.  The  old 
garden,  as  Charlotte  had  sat  there  in  the  pas 
sionless  daylight,  had  soothed  her  soul  to  a  calm 
that  seemed  to  her  now  but  death  in  life  ;  it  had 
been  the  calm  that  renounced  love.  She  was 
ascending  to  a  higher  calm,  to  the  high-hearted 
acceptance  of  life  with  all  its  conditions  of  joy 
and  pain.  She  felt  herself  brought  into  new  kin 
ship  with  Nature,  encompassed  and  consoled  by 
companionship  beyond  that  of  men  and  women. 
She  feared  to  lose  this  if  her  love  were  to  be 
taken  from  her,  and  its  suffering  were  to  be  fol 
lowed  by  painless  peace.  At  moments  during 
the  day  she  had  felt  the  sweet  persuasion  of 
Nature,  but  here,  in  the  radiant  night,  she  knew 
herself  its  child.  She  paced  up  and  down  the 
garden  walk,  with  face  turned  upward. 

"  Would  n't  you  like  to  come  in,  dear,  and 
see  Mrs.  North?"  came  the  voice  of  aunt  Cor 
nelia  from  the  back  porch.  She  had  already 


282  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

begun  to  act  upon  her  affectionate  theory  that 
Charlotte  must  be  "  diverted." 

Mrs.  North  sat  upon  the  sofa,  with  her  knit 
ting  upon  her  lap,  and,  without  rising,  gave 
Charlotte  a  hand  that  had  no  grasp.  She  asked 
Miss  Cornelia's  niece  if  she  were  quite  well, 
also  when  she  had  arrived  in  town,  after  which 
she  appeared  to  forget  her,  and  fixing  her  eyes 
on  her  knitting,  returned  to  impersonal  matters. 
Mrs.  North  had  much  to  talk  about.  She  was 
a  liberal  reader,  a  veteran  traveler,  and,  in  a 
quite  impersonal  way,  had  seen  much  of  the 
world.  She  was  no  gossip.  Talk  about  things, 
not  about  people,  was  her  advice  to  the  young. 
She  talked  and  listened  with  eyes  upon  her  knit 
ting.  Her  knitting  accompanied  her  to  lectures 
and  concerts,  to  the  untold  annoyance  of  per 
formers.  One  irritable  foreign  conductor  had 
sent  down  the  message  to  the  lady  in  the  front 
seat  that  if  she  would  knit  in  time,  she  might 
continue ;  if  not,  she  would  have  the  goodness 
to  take  her  leave.  Mrs.  North  repeated  the 
anecdote  of  the  foreigner  as  she  told  an  anec 
dote  of  a  child  ;  they  were  alike  amusing  to  her 
in  their  innocent  folly.  Miss  Cornelia  listened 
with  infinite  respect  to  returned  travelers,  all 
the  while  feeling  her  lot  a  privileged  one  that 
she  could  sit  at  home. 

Charlotte  looked  at  Mrs.  North  and  did  her 


THROUGH  ANOTHER  DAY.  283 

best  to  follow  what  she  was  saying  about  the 
pyramids.  Alas  for  the  poise  and  serenity  of  a 
half  hour  ago  !  Charlotte  sank  on  the  instant 
in  the  presence  of  her  aunt's  visitor.  Her  heart 
fled  to  Richard  Waring,  and  hid  in  his  sympa 
thy  and  comprehension.  She  was  so  sure  of  his 
judgment  of  Mrs.  North  that  she  was  sustained 
through  the  history  of  an  entire  winter  on  the 
Nile.  And  so  the  evening  wore  away. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE   WILL   IS   FORGOTTEN. 

A  LETTER  lay  by  Charlotte's  plate  at  the 
breakfast  -  table.  A  glance  told  her  that  the 
address  was  in  Waring's  handwriting,  and  that 
the  letter  bore  no  stamp.  He  is  near ;  he  is 
here !  She  lingered  in  the  joy  of  that,  and  de 
layed  to  break  the  seal.  The  outside  of  the 
letter  was  all  that  she  could  bear  at  the  first. 
Then  she  opened  it  slowly,  and  with  still  breath 
read  a  dozen  words.  She  said  quietly  to  her 
aunt,  "  Mr.  Waring  came  last  night.  He  wants 
to  see  me." 

Aunt  Cornelia  looked  at  her,  and  the  tears 
filled  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  no,  not  that,  dear  aunt  Cornelia.  There 
is  a  great  deal  of  business  that  we  have  to  at 
tend  to  ;  there  is  so  much  property  to  be  trans 
ferred." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  aunt  Cornelia.  She  turned 
her  back  and  wiped  her  eyes.  When  Waring 
rang  the  front-door  bell,  aunt  Cornelia  had  taken 
care  to  be  trimming  rose-bushes  in  the  garden. 


THE  WILL  IS  FOEGOTTEN.  285 

Eichard  Waring  stood  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  looking-  at  nothing  but  the  door  by  which 
Charlotte  must  enter.  There  was  no  longer 

O 

complexity  in  his  feeling  or  his  purpose.  All 
conflicts  of  duty  and  of  delicacy  were  at  an  end. 
He  stood  there  ready  to  say,  I  love  you,  the 
instant  that  she  appeared  to  him. 

That  is  a  momentous  entry  when  a  woman 
walks  into  a  room  to  meet  a  waiting  lover. 
Charlotte  paused  outside  the  door.  Her  heart 
beat  wildly;  her  frame  vibrated  as  under  the 
throb  of  a  strong  engine.  Nevertheless,  she  held 
out  her  hand  to  Waring,  and  greeted  him  lightly 
and  cordially.  In  her  self -consciousness,  she  was 
so  brisk  and  bright  that  Waring  was  discomfited. 
They  fell  to  talking  of  old  New  England  towns, 
and  both  said  some  very  good  things,  to  their 
mutual  dissatisfaction.  Waring  snatched  at  a 
New  York  topic,  and  even  plunged  into  a  matter 
of  business.  Charlotte  talked  bravely,  her  heart 
sinking  steadily  under  the  reflection  that  this 
interview,  too,  was  going  all  wrong.  With  the 
strained  and  painful  relation  between  them,  it 
was  apparently  impossible  to  speak  in  any  but 
an  artificial  way.  How  had  she  ever  fancied 
that  this  barrier  could  be  overcome  ?  Mrs.  Bis- 
bee  had  bade  her  be  truthful  when  the  great 
moment  came ;  and  she  saw,  through  her  trou 
ble,  that  it  was  she  herself  who  was  keeping  the 


286  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

talk  superficial.  Insincerity  is  the  last  desper 
ate  resort  of  a  sincere  woman  in  distress.  Char 
lotte  hid  in  it ;  it  made  a  darkness  about  her, 
in  which  she  and  Waring  seemed  vainly  trying 
to  reach  each  other.  Then  she  thought  of  him  ; 
she  threw  herself  into  his  place,  and  forgetting 
herself,  she  saw  only  his  part  in  this  trouble. 
She  pitied  him,  and  the  woman's  impulse  proved 
a  divine  leading.  She  was  for  an  instant  able 
to  speak  truly  even  to  the  man  she  loved. 
She  said,  "  I  must  tell  you.  I  have  felt  very 
sorry  for  you  in  all  this.  I  have  felt  —  I 
have  known  —  what  you  must  feel."  Her  voice 
had  lost  its  friendly  cheerfulness  ;  it  trembled 
with  sympathy.  Then  she  added,  with  sweet, 
heartfelt  voice,  "  Oh,  let  me  speak  the  truth  to 
you.  Let  us  have  nothing  but  the  truth  be 
tween  us." 

Waring  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  stood  before 
her.  He  spoke  almost  roughly.  "  The  truth  ? 
You  will  have  the  truth  ?  The  truth  is,  I  love 
you!" 

'  She  let  herself  be  drawn  to  him.  "  Will  you 
love  me  ?  Will  you  let  me  try  to  make  you 
love  me  ? "  She  stirred  a  little,  but  did  not 
answer.  "  Charlotte,  speak  to  me  !  "  At  the 
sound  of  her  name,  never  so  tender  a  name 
before,  she  looked  up  and  moved  her  lips,  then 
hid  her  face. 


THE  WILL  IS  FORGOTTEN.  287 

"  Charlotte,  Charlotte,"  he  called  her,  exult 
ing  in  new  liberty,  as  he  uttered  the  dear  name 
by  which  she  had  long  lived  in  his  heart.  It 
gave  them  both  a  sweet  surprise  each  time  that 
it  was  spoken.  "  Charlotte  !  " 

"  Richard!  "  she  whispered. 

Meanwhile  aunt  Cornelia's  scissors  were  mak 
ing  havoc  among  the  rose-bushes.  She  knew 
what  was  passing  in  that  corner  room,  and  she 
looked  up  at  the  windows  with  tenderness  and 
with  respect,  touched,  even  in  this  unselfish  wo 
man  of  seventy,  with  gentle  envy  and  regret. 
Aunt  Cornelia  had  no  doubt  of  the  result  of 
this  interview.  Her  mind  was,  indeed,  divided 
between  the  sentiment  of  the  hour  and  the  con 
sideration  of  dinner.  Of  course  she  should 
invite  him  to  stay  ;  "  it  "  would  all  be  "  over  " 
by  that  time.  Aunt  Cornelia's  scissors  cut  away 
recklessly  in  her  excitement.  At  length  she 
crept  around  to  the  kitchen  door,  and  gave  her 
orders  to  Margaret,  who  looked  startled  and 
then  knowing.  Miss  Cornelia  returned  stealth 
ily  to  her  rose-bushes.  She  could  not  make  out 
her  own  feelings.  "  I  love  her,  and  I  want  her 
to  marry  him,  but  somehow  I  can't  bear  to  be 
in  the  house  ! ''  The  old  lady  opened  her  eyes 
wide,  to  keep  back  the  tears. 

Charlotte  and  her  lover  found  it  not  urgent 
that  they  should  discuss  business  matters,  and 


288  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

New  England  towns  lost  interest  for  them. 
There  seemed  all  at  once  no  necessity  about 
anything.  They  were  suddenly  in  possession 
of  all  time,  or,  rather,  they  were  transferred  to 
new  space,  where  time  was  not,  duty  was  not, 
words  were  not.  Passivity  was  sweet  to  Char 
lotte.  To  receive  was  more  blessed  than  to 
give  ;  to  be  loved  more  precious  than  to  love. 
To  see  her  wrought  to  such  stillness  and  sur 
render  filled  Waring  with  pride  and  humility. 
He  was  touched  by  the  pathos  of  womanhood 
that  lies  hidden  in  its  power,  and  that  asserts 
itself  in  modern  conditions  by  as  sure  an  in 
stinct  as  at  the  beginning  of  time.  Looking 
upon  her  as  she  rested  in  an  ecstasy  of  peace, 
Waring  was  moved  with  the  awed  gratitude 
of  the  high-souled  man  in  presence  of  woman's 
love. 

Charlotte,  in  turn,  was  deeply  moved  by  her 
power  over  her  lover,  by  her  apparent  possession 
of  his  life  and  of  his  future.  There  was  a  mys 
tery  developed  in  her,  by  which  it  was  given 
her  so  to  transfigure  this  strong  man.  She  was 
awed,  moreover,  by  his  conception  of  herself. 
She  seemed  born  again  into  a  new  and  unut 
terably  sweet  self-consciousness.  It  was  the  su 
preme  pleasure  of  individuality,  to  be  seen  thus, 
as  her  lover  saw  her,  set  apart  from  all  the 
world.  She  felt  it  joy  undeserved,  unearned. 


THE  WILL  IX  FORGOTTEN.  289 

Her  former  efforts  after  goodness  looked  poor 
and  commonplace  ;  she  was  constrained  hence 
forth  to  be  —  what  he  believed  her. 

One  tender  regret  touched  their  happiness. 
They  mourned  that  they  had  lost  ten  years  of 
life  together. 

"  We  have  been  so  long  in  finding  each 
other !  " 

They  traced  lamentable  delays  and  perversi 
ties  of  fate.  They  readjusted  the  past  fondly 
and  foolishly,  with  sweet  and  unprofitable  plan 
ning  of  what  might  have  been. 

"  Charlotte,  I  have  been  dreaming  of  you  for 
years.  Now  I  know  it.  I  have  been  coming  to 
you,  my  darling.  Was  there  no  way  for  you 
to  know  ?  " 

Charlotte  gave  a  little  cry  of  happiness.  By 
and  by  she  murmured,  "  But  I  grudge  those 
years.  I  am  not  young  any  longer." 

"  My  beautiful  immortal !  " 

She  sat  upright,  with  shining  eyes.  They 
fell  before  his,  and  she  said  lamely  and  girlishly, 
"  You  say  such  things  !  " 

"  Of  course  I  do.  Have  n't  I  suffered  enough 
from  not  saying  them  ?  " 

"  Oh,  were  you  unhappy  ? "  said  Charlotte, 
with  content. 

"  Dear,"  she  said  suddenly,  "  I  believe  you 
write  poetry." 


290  THE  PETR1E  ESTATE. 

"  Not  for  years.  I  have  had  no  heavenly  god 
dess  to  inspire  me.  One  must  have  a  muse  to 
invoke." 

"  Did  you  ever  have  a  muse  to  invoke  ? " 
Charlotte  turned  upon  him.  "  Oh,  if  you  did, 
don't  tell  me  !  Never  let  me  hear  of  her !  " 

Waring  laughed,  but  he  was  seriously  inter 
ested. 

"  Charlotte,"  he  said,  "  my  follies  have  been 
of  a  sort  that  you  and  I  could  laugh  about  to 
gether." 

"  No,  no  !     I  could  never  laugh." 

"  I  think  you  could.  I  am  glad  you  could," 
he  added  gravely. 

But  there  was  little  need  of  carrying  retro 
spection  farther  than  the  past  winter.  They 
had  met  less  than  a  year  ago,  yet  it  was  a  life 
time  for  reminiscence. 

Charlotte  took  delight  in  calling  him  to  ac 
count  for  his  recent  neglect  of  her.  It  was  a 
dear  privilege  to  question  him ;  she  cared  not 
much  for  the  answer. 

"That  night  at  Mrs.  Appleby's,"  she  said, 
"  why  did  you  treat  me  so  ?  Hardly  listening  to 
me,  barely  speaking  to  me.  I  suppose  you  were 
composing  a  leader  while  you  were  looking  at 
me  in  that  dazed  way." 

"I  was  madly  in  love  with  you,  in  plain 
terms." 


THE  WILL  IS  FORGOTTEN.  291 

"  That  was  your  way  of  expressing  it  ?  " 

"  You  would  not  have  had  me  snatch  you  up 
and  away  with  you  in  that  fashion,  would  you  ?  " 
said  Waring,  pointing  to  a  photograph  upon 
aunt  Cornelia's  walls,  the  copy  of  a  well-known 
group  in  Florence.  "  That  was  the  only  alterna 
tive." 

Aunt  Cornelia,  as  the  dinner  hour  approached, 
began  to  hover  about  the  hall,  pained,  but  fasci 
nated.  Her  own  familiar  parlor  door  looked  to 
her  impregnable.  Her  knees  were  weak  and 
her  hand  shook.  She  retreated  to  the  kitchen 
and  tried  to  say  lightly,  "  Well,  Margaret,  is 
dinner  about  ready  ?  " 

"  We  might  ring  a  little  bell,  mum,  right  out 
side  the  door,"  said  Margaret,  who  grasped  the 
situation. 

"  You  may  ring  it,  Margaret." 

The  door  opened,  and  Charlotte  came  out  to 
her  aunt,  who  stood  in  increasing  agitation  at 
the  back  of  the  hall. 

"  There,  there  !  Dear  child,  dear  child !  "  She 
did  not  wait  for  Charlotte  to  speak ;  for  the 
tears  were  hard  upon  aunt  Cornelia,  and  her 
voice  broke  with  the  last  word. 

"  Richard,  come  !  Aunt  Cornelia,  here  is  my 
Dearest.  See  !  "  And  Charlotte  stood  clasped 
in  her  lover's  arms  before  her  aunt's  very  eyes. 
Richard  stooped  and  kissed  the  old  lady,  and 


292  THE  PETlilE  ESTATE. 

she  put  a  hand  on  each  and  tried  to  say  she 
blessed  them. 

"  You  '11  stay  to  dinner  with  us,"  she  said 
brokenly.  "  Charlotte,  will  you  see  if  the  table 
is  just  as  you  like  it,  dear  ?  " 

One  of  the  most  trying  efforts  of  aunt  Cor 
nelia's  life  was  the  attempt  to  carry  on  an  agree 
able  conversation  through  the  meal  that  followed. 
Charlotte  sat  silent,  with  eyes  shining  upon  the 
wall  opposite.  Richard,  conscious  of  nothing 
but  her  presence,  did  not  look  at  her,  but  bent 
himself  to  conversation  with  aunt  Cornelia. 
He  ate  a  substantial  meal  without  knowing  it, 
while  the  two  ladies  played  with  their  meat  and 
potato. 

When  the  parting  came  that  night,  and  there 
was  mention  of  Waring' s  speedy  return  to  the 
city,  Charlotte  besought  him  to  linger  for  a  few 
days. 

"  There  have  been  so  many  years,"  she  said. 
"  Stay  a  little  now."  She  did  not  look  at  him 
as,  with  her  mingled  passion  and  shyness,  she 
pleaded  for  delay. 

Waring  looked  thoughtful  as  he  ran  over  in 
his  mind  his  obligations  for  the  coming  week. 
She  saw  that  she  ought  to  let  him  go,  but  she 
turned  her  faee  to  him  with  a  radiant  smile  of 
persuasion. 

"  A  few  telegrams  will  arrange  matters.  How 
can  I  leave  you  ?  " 


THE  WILL  IS  FORGOTTEN.  293 

Suddenly  Charlotte  cried,  "  I  forgot  the  will. 
I  had  forgotten  it  entirely.  You  have  to  go  on 
account  of  that." 

"  And  I  had  forgotten  it,  utterly.  What  is 
James  Petrie's  will  to  us,  love  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

"IN   THE   MIDST   OF   LIFE." 

WARING  thought  it  a  delightful  instance  of  the 
caprice  of  a  superior  woman  that  Charlotte  urged 
upon  him  next  morning  the  necessity  of  his  re 
turning  to  his  post. 

"  1  see  things  differently  by  daylight,"  said 
Charlotte. 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not." 

"  I  am  a  more  reasonable  woman." 

"No,  no!" 

"  I  think  it  is  your  duty  to  go." 

He  kissed  her. 

"  Don't  you  think  —  you  — .ought  —  to  go  ?  " 

He  kissed  her  again. 

"  You  think  —  it  would  be  right  for  you  to 
stay  ?  I  suppose  you  know  best !  "  she  whis 
pered,  and  laughed  and  sighed. 

The  sweetest  human  speech  may  not  be  writ 
ten  down  ;  neither  the  talk  of  a  mother  to  her 
darling,  nor  the  murmur  of  lovers  confessed. 
With  Waring  and  Charlotte,  the  old  subjects 
appeared  postponed  for  a  time,  or  if  they  re- 


-  7.V   THE  MIDST  OF  LIFE."  295 

turned,  they  were  touched  with  a  new  light. 
Infinite  new  matter  was  opened  up  between 
them.  The  lovers'  dual  introspection  shut  out 
all  other  themes  at  first.  How  Charlotte  came  to 
be  Charlotte,  how  Waring  was  the  man  he  was,  — 
this  was  tenderly  investigated  from  day  to  day. 
Charlotte  dwelt  upon  Richard's  boyhood  with 
the  woman's  exquisite  maternal  yearning  over 
the  childhood  of  her  lover.  It  touched  her  pro 
foundly  that  he  had  lost  a  mother's  care,  and 
her  heart  hardened  towards  the  woman  who  had 
given  up  her  child  even  to  James  Petrie.  It 
was  sweet  to  Charlotte  to  put  on  little  airs  of 
motherliness  with  Waring,  with  a  loving  and 
playful  longing  to  supply  what  he  had  lost  of 
woman's  care.  The  next  moment  it  was  as  sweet 
to  her  when  they  changed  places,  and  he  smiled 
upon  her  as  if  she  were  a  child. 

"  We  take  turns  in  being  superior,  dearest," 
said  Charlotte.  "  Yet  I  am  sure  that  I  look  up 
to  you." 

"  And  I  to  you.  I  fancy  Nature  will  always 
take  care  of  that.  You  and  I,  the  woman  and 
the  man,  may  rest  serene.  No  superficial  changes 
of  society  will  ever  alter  it." 

Charlotte  looked  thoughtful.  "  '  Not  like  to 
like,  but  like  in  difference,' "  she  murmured. 

"  Nevertheless,"  he  said,  speaking  slowly,  and 
looking  into  her  lovely  eyes,  "  I  have  not  a  doubt 


296  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

that  the  farthest  advance  of  the  human  race  is  to 
be  found  in  the  woman  of  the  nineteenth  cen 
tury.  That  is  as  far  as  evolution  has  gone." 

Charlotte  drew  away,  amused,  and  on  her  dig 
nity.  "  I  read  your  essay  on  New  Types,  sir." 

"  Charlotte,  I  have  nothing  to  say  —  nothing 
but  this  :  I  wrote  it  before  I  knew  you.  Come 
back  to  me  !  " 

Changes  were  wrought  in  the  minds  of  both, 
though  not  by  processes  of  argument.  There 
was  no  shock  of  conversion  to  rouse  Waring' s 
skepticism ;  but  he  came  to  himself,  to  find  his 
thoughts  kindled  with  a  new  vitality.  Enthusi 
asm  was  a  feeble  name  to  give  the  power  awak 
ened  in  him,  —  the  power  to  believe  and  hope. 
He  drew  from  Charlotte's  soul  the  promise  of 
heaven  and  immortality ;  her  gallant  patriotism 
quickened  his  faith  in  his  country;  her  gener 
ous  humanity  sent  a  current  of  vitality  through 
all  his  relations  with  his  fellow-men.  She  em 
bodied  for  him  the  poetry  of  these  high  themes. 
In  her  new  beauty,  the  spirit  shone  out  as  never 
before  through  the  translucent  flesh ;  soul  and 
body  beautified  and  expressed  each  other.  There 
were  new  notes  in  her  voice,  new  lights  and 
depths  in  her  eyes.  While  she  in  herself  was  to 
him  all  poetry,  it  was  his  love  that  was  to  her 
the  profoundest  experience  of  poetry  that  life 
had  given  her.  Akin  with  Nature,  Charlotte  had 


"  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  LIFE."  297 

called  her  love,  under  the  moonlight ;  but  now 
it  appeared  to  her  the  sublime  presence  of  the 
supernatural. 

"  Nothing  that  we  are  asked  to  believe  is  more 
wonderful,"  she  said,  with  bated  breath,  "not 
the  presence  of  God,  not  the  life  hereafter.  You 
know  the  child  that  looked  at  the  dead  face,  and 
said,  '  I  don't  understand  it,'  and  the  poet  said, 
'Nor  do  I.'" 

"  Love  and  death  are  the  realities.  There  is 
nothing  else.  They  teach  the  rest,"  said  Waring. 

The  lovers  dwelt  in  an  exalted  solitude,  and 
were  loath  to  leave  it. 

"Are  we  selfish?  Are  we  forgetting  the 
world  below  ?  "  Charlotte  whispered. 

"  We  have  a  right  to." 

She  rested  upon  this  for  a  time. 

"  I  never  wanted  so  much  to  make  other  peo 
ple  happy." 

"  All  in  good  time.  Not  just  yet,  my  dar 
ling." 

"  How  I  pity  other  people  —  so  many  of 
them." 

Waring  let  her  pity  them,  and  called  her  an 
angel. 

"The  Ilathaways!  Sue  Hathaway  is  not  a 
happy  woman." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it." 

Charlotte  was  silent.     In  the  happiness  of  the 


298  THE  PETEIE  ESTATE. 

past  few  days  there  was  but  one  pang,  in  the 
thought  of  Grace  Hathaway. 

"  I  am  always  running  against  that  young 
Austen  there,"  was  Waring's  next  remark. 
"What's  the  meaning  of  that?  I  suppose  you 
know." 

"What?"  said  Charlotte.  "I  never  heard 
Grace  speak  of  him." 

"  Ah !  Grace  !  "  They  smiled,  and  a  shadow 
was  gone. 

It  was  not  till  several  days  had  passed,  that 
the  will  was  mentioned  again.  Charlotte  begun 
with  a  little  shiver.  "  I  have  dreaded  to  ask. 
Will  everybody  have  to  know?" 

"  It  depends  a  good  deal  upon  whether  we 
bring  that  scoundrel  to  justice." 

"Scoundrel?" 

"  Who  stole  the  will." 

"  I  knew  he  was  a  villain  by  the  way  he  ap 
proached  me  with  it.  But  how  can  you  prove 
that  he  stole  it?" 

Waring  looked  at  her  and  hesitated.  One 
motive  led  him  to  conceal  from  her  now  and  al 
ways  the  fact  that  he  had  been  in  possession  of 
the  will.  A  stronger  impulse  drove  him  to  lay 
at  her  feet  the  final  proof  of  his  love. 

"  lie  stole  it  from  me,"  he  said,  briefly. 

Charlotte  stood  erect,  and  looked  down  upon 
him.  She  was  thinking  back  so  rapidly  over  the 


"I2V   THE  MIDST  OF  LIFE."  299 

past  year  that  at  first  she  could  not  speak.  To 
Waring' s  amazement  she  turned  upon  him  with 
reproaches. 

"  How  could  you  do  it  ?  It  was  not  right.  It 
was  not  carrying  out  his  wishes.  He  never 
wanted  me  to  have  his  money.  How  could  you 
leave  me  in  such  a  position  ?  It  was  not  fair  to 
anybody.  Oh,  how  can  I  ever  forgive  you?" 

Charlotte  burst  into  tears. 

"  Charlotte,"  said  Waring  in  a  steady,  but 
tender  voice ;  and  Charlotte  ceased  sobbing. 
"  I  meant  to  do  worse.  I  meant  to  destroy  the 
will.  It  was  because  I  loved  you." 

Charlotte  raised  her  face.  She  leaned  to 
wards  Waring  with  hands  outstretched,  and 
drew  him  to  her.  "  Did  you  love  me  so?"  she 
said  in  a  whisper  in  which  her  whole  soul  vi 
brated. 

"  Mrs.  Bisbee  is  right,"  said  Charlotte  after 
wards.  "  Love  simplifies  everything.  Love  is 
crowned  by  a  sacrifice,  even  a  sacrifice  of  pride, 
like  mine." 

"Or  like  mine,"  said  Waring.  "You  may 
pity  the  hurt  to  my  pride  when  I  filed  the  will 
that  was  to  disinherit  the  woman  I  loved." 

"  Richard,  tell  me !  If  you  had  destroyed 
the  will,  and  had  left  me  a  rich  woman,  what 
should  you  have  done?"  Her  look  was  irresis 
tible  in  its  alarm  and  appeal. 


300  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

"  I  should  have  asked  you  to  marry  a  pool- 
man." 

"  I  am  grateful,"  said  Charlotte  simply. 

"  You  love  me  perfectly,"  she  said  again.  "  I 
had  a  fear.  I  know  there  is  a  danger,  when  two 
people  are  like  you  and  me.  There  is  a  danger 
of  mistaking  congeniality  of  tastes  for  love.  I 
thought  once  we  —  you  —  I  mean,  /,  had  done 
it."  Charlotte  hid  her  face. 

"  But  you  are  perfect  towards  me  —  towards 
us  all."  Charlotte  could  not  have  told  why,  in 
the  past  few  days,  she  had  drawn  closer  to  other 
women.  She  watched  her  lover  narrowly,  ex 
acting  of  him  a  love  that  included  all  other 
women  in  its  reverence,  and  excluded  all  other 
women  in  its  passion. 

One  evening,  as  Waring  was  leaving  the 
house,  he  was  met  by  a  boy  with  a  telegram. 
He  stepped  back  into  the  light  of  the  hall,  and 
read  the  bit  of  paper.  The  message  had  been 
forwarded  from  his  office,  and  was  from  Mrs. 
Hathaway.  Her  husband  was  dead,  and  she 
begged  Waring  to  come  to  her. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

IN   NEW    YORK   AGAIN. 

"  CHARLOTTE  !  I  knew  you  would  come  to 
me  ! '  Mrs.  Hathaway  clung  to  her  cousin,  and 
the  two  women  wept  together. 

"  It  was  so  sudden,"  and  they  cried  again. 

"  The  doctor  said,  though,  that  it  had  been 
coming  on  for  a  long  time.  I  remember  what 
you  said  about  a  long  vacation  for  him.  I  did 
all  I  could,  but  he  said  he  could  not  get  away. 
We  are  so  bound  by  circumstances  in  this  world, 
Charlotte.  I  am  sure  I  have  learned  to  submit." 

Sue's  worldliness  with  its  tincture  of  piety 
was  more  than  Charlotte  could  bear,  her  heart 
all  sore  with  the  fate  of  John  Hathaway.  She 
inquired  about  the  children. 

"  They  are  broken-hearted,  Charlotte.  He 
was  so  fond  of  his  children.  You  know  —  how 
fond  —  he  was.  When  they  were  babies  —  oh, 
I  can't,  I  can't  talk  about  it.  But  you  don't 
know  how  I  go  back  to  that  time,  Charlotte.  It 
is  curious,  I  seem  to  remember  him  better  then, 
actually  remember  him  better,  before  he  got  into 


302  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

things  so  much,  before  he  was  so  driven.  And  I 
go  back  before  that,  too,  when  we  were  engaged 
and  first  married.  He  was  devoted  to  me.  They 
all  said  at  home  that  he  would  do  anything  for 
me,  that  he  would  give  me  everything  I  wanted. 
And  he  has  —  simply  existed  for  me.  I  told 
you  that  he  was  silent  and  depressed.  I  ought 
not  to  have  spoken  so,  for  I  never  knew  him 
more  thoughtful  of  me  than  he  has  been  these 
last  months  of  his  life.  It  seemed  as  if  he 
could  n't  do  enough  —  like  having  my  room  done 
over,  you  know,  and  the  new  set.  I  am  glad  I 
was  always  thoughtful  of  him.  I  don't  know 
how  I  could  have  been  more  careful  of  his  health 
than  I  was." 

Charlotte  had  hidden  her  face  in  her  handker 
chief  and  was  shedding  tears  of  unrelieved  bit 
terness.  They  were  for  the  life  of  John  Hatha 
way  rather  than  for  his  death. 

"  And  now  he  's  gone  !  "  Sue  broke  down  in 
simple  grief,  less  harrowing  to  Charlotte  than 
blind  retrospect.  She  put  her  arm  about  her 
cousin,  and  hushed  her  tenderly.  Again  and 
again  between  her  sobs  Sue  would  call  back  the 
days  of  her  early  love. 

"  Everybody  will  tell  you  so.  That  is  the 
happiest  time,"  she  said,  with  tearful  voice. 

Charlotte  wondered,  doubted,  and  deplored. 
She  and  Kichard  had  lately  begun  to  talk  about 


IN  NEW  YORK  AGAIN.  303 

their  married  life,  with  solemn  and  joyous  faith 
in  the  future  of  their  love.  They  pondered  to 
gether  the  history  of  this  marriage  ended,  as 
theirs  was  to  begin. 

"  What  grieved  and  puzzled  me  was  that  no 
outside  influence  could  reach  them  or  help  them. 
It  was  so  absolutely  their  own  affair." 

"  That  is  what  people  ought  to  remember  at 
the  altar." 

Charlotte  looked  steadily  at  the  floor.  "  I 
liked  John  Hathaway's  society,  and  I  brought 
something  into  his  life.  But  it  did  not  help 
matters.  It  was  a  failure." 

"  I  saw  all  that." 

She  looked  into  his  face,  and  said  quickly, 
"  I  can  never  speak  of  it,  Richard." 

u  I  have  tried  to  be  the  right  sort  of  cousin  to 
Sue,"  she  said  afterwards,  "  but  a  cousin  is  the 
vaguest  thing  in  the  world.  We  have  been  to 
gether  a  great  deal,  but  we  have  never  affected 
each  other  in  the  least." 

"  She  clings  to  you  now." 

"  You  and  I  must  help  her,  and  we  must  help 
the  children." 

"  There  will  be  need  of  it.  I  had  a  talk  with 
Austen  at  John's  office.  lie  's  a  clear-headed 
young  fellow.  lie  knows  how  Hathaway's 
affairs  stand.  There  will  be  very  little  left  for 
them  but  his  life  insurance." 


304  THE  PETE  IE  ESTATE. 

"  His  life  insurance  !  "  Charlotte  echoed. 

"  He  was  heavily  insured.  I  suppose  he  fore 
saw  a  break-up  of  this  sort." 

"And  Sue  will  live  on  his  life  insurance! 
There  's  a  tragic  fitness." 

"  How  about  Grace,  and  the  rest?  " 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  you  about  Grace," 
said  Charlotte,  smiling  once  more. 

That  morning  Grace  had  found  herself  alone 
with  her  cousin,  and  after  closing  the  door  and 
guarding  against  treacherous  portieres,  she  had 
drawn  Charlotte  to  a  confidential  sofa. 

"  You  have  been  so  kind,  cousin  Charlotte, 
you  and  Mr.  Waring,  and  —  everybody."  Grace 
pressed  her  lip  hard  with  her  teeth,  the  tears 
came  into  her  eyes,  and  she  smiled.  She  had 
grown  older  in  the  last  week.  She  looked  the 
woman  in  the  poise  of  her  figure,  the  carriage 
of  her  head,  and  the  steadiness  of  her  eyes. 
Glancing  at  the  two  sitting  side  by  side,  one 
would  readily  have  pronounced  them  kinswomen, 
closely  related  in  spirit  and  temper  as  well  as  in 
blood.  Grace  was  still  girlish  in  expression,  as 
she  poured  into  Charlotte's  ear  the  history  of  the 
last  great  days.  The  same  story  she  had  heard 
from  Mrs.  Hathaway,  who  had  related  every  par 
ticular  with  such  truth  to  her  own  nature  that 
Charlotte  marveled  at  the  power  of  sorrow  to 
touch  the  springs  of  character.  In  her  every-day 


IN  NEW   YORK  AGAIN.  305 

conduct,  Mrs.  Hathaway  was,  like  most  people,  at 
one  time  better  than  her  thoughts,  at  another 
time  worse.  The  outer  life  is,  indeed,  a  mean 
between  the  extremes  of  the  inner  life.  There 
was  at  present  in  Mrs.  Hathaway's  case  no  such 
unconscious  compromise  with  herself.  She  had 
never  before  been  so  fully  and  freely  what 
nature  and  the  world  had  made  her.  With  the 
girl's  mother  in  mind,  Charlotte  listened  anx 
iously  to  Grace,  craving  that  she  might  ring 
true  under  her  first  great  experience.  Charlotte 
was  filled  with  emotion  as  she  saw  the  young 
girl's  just  and  generous  mind  appear.  The 
daughter's  grief  was  made  profound  by  the 
woman's  tender  and  pitiful  perception  of  what 
her  father's  life  had  been.  Charlotte  let  her 
sob  herself  quiet  again. 

"  It  seems  almost  wicked  to  be  happy  about 
anything,"  said  Grace,  at  last.  "  But  I  am.  I 
wanted  to  tell  you."  Grace  looked  straight 
down  to  her  lap,  and  pulled  the  corners  of  her 
handkerchief. 

"  I  never  supposed  I  was  inconstant.  I  always 
supposed  there  would  be  just  one  person  and 
never  any  other.  I  would  rather  have  a  broken 
heart  than  think  I  was  fickle.  Would  n't  you, 
cousin  Charlotte  ?  " 

Charlotte  was  not  prepared  to  say. 

"  I  was  miserable  for  a  little  while,"   Grace 


306  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

continued,  "  but  somehow  nothing  lasted,  not 
my  love  and  not  my  misery,  after  —  well,  I  may 
as  well  confess  it  —  after  Frank  Austen  came. 
He  showed  right  out  so  plainly  that  I  could  n't 
help  it.  And  now  that  we  have  been  in  such 
trouble,  he  has  been  simply  perfect.  Mamma 
herself  says  so.  Charlotte,  I  dreaded  to  tell  you. 
I  know  now  as  well  as  you  do  how  silly  I  have 
been.  Perhaps  I  did  n't  really  care  so  much 
about  —  the  other.  I  'd  rather  think  anything 
than  that  I  was  inconstant.  And  he  seems  just 
the  same  friend  he  always  was,  especially  since 
dear  papa  died.  Why  I  do  love  him,  only  it  is 
different :  Frank  Austen  is  much  more  the  sort 
of  person  to  fall  in  love  with.  Now,  is  n't  he  ? 
He  is  so  much  younger,  and  so  much  handsomer, 
don't  you  know  ?  " 

Charlotte  smiled  and  petted  her,  and  fell  in 
contentedly  enough  with  these  conclusions. 
Grace  knew  no  more  than  that  Charlotte  had 
been  at  her  aunt's  for  a  week,  and  had  returned 
to  the  city  upon  the  summons  from  Mrs.  Hath 
away. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  days  Charlotte  in 
trusted  her  secret  to  her  cousin,  but  begged  her 
not  to  mention  it  to  Grace  for  the  present. 
Mrs.  Hathaway  listened  with  smiles  as  sad  as 
her  tears.  Charlotte  was  deeply  touched  by 
her  response. 


IiV  NEW   YORK  AGAIN.  307 

"  He  was  John's  friend.  lie  was  the  Lest 
friend  John,  had,"  was  all  she  said  at  first. 
Charlotte  loved  Richard  for  this  friendship. 
She  pressed  Sue's  hand  in  gratitude,  and  the 
poor  woman  murmured  brokenly,  "  All  I  ean  say 
is,  I  hope  you  will  be  as  happy  as  I  have  been." 

Charlotte  could  have  cried  then. 

"  Charlotte,"  said  Mrs.  Hathaway,  "  we  shall 
have  to  give  up  this  house.  We  shall  have  to 
board  or  go  into  the  country.  I  would  iivuch 
rather  board.  Do  advise  me  !  " 

Charlotte  gave  the  advice  she  was  asked  for, 
but  Mrs.  Hathaway  was  restive  under  it.  "  It 
would  be  the  greatest  sacrifice  I  could  make  — 
to  go  into  the  country,"  she  pleaded  against 
Charlotte,  vaguely  blaming  her  cousin  and  hold 
ing  her  responsible  for  the  dullness  of  the 
suburbs. 

"  As  for  your  advice  that  Grace  and  Frank 
should  be  allowed  to  marry  in  a  year,  what  have 
they  to  live  on,  pray  ?  With  only  his  salary, 
they  would  be  poor  people  —  simply  poor  peo 
ple,  nothing  more  or  less." 

"  Let  them  be  poor  people,  then." 

"  Ah,  Charlotte,  you  don't  consider  what  it 
costs  young  people  to  begin  life  nowadays." 

"  I  do  consider,  Sue.  There  has  never  been 
a  time,  I  think,  when  they  could  make  so  pretty, 
refined,  expressive  a  little  home  out  of  such 


308  THE  PETE1E  ESTATE. 

modest  materials.  Love  in  a  cottage  was  never 
so  practicable." 

"  There  is  little  use  arguing  with  you,  Char 
lotte.  When  you  have  kept  house  as  long  as  I 
have,  when  you  have  seen  more  of  the  practical 
side  of  life —  You  see  you  are  sentimental, 
Charlotte." 

Charlotte  nodded  and  smiled. 

"  Then,  too,  you  are  in  love.  There  is  no  use 
arguing  with  such  a  person." 

They  talked  of  the  other  children. 

"  You  must  let  Richard  and  me  help  about 
their  education,  dear  Sue,"  said  Charlotte,  laying 
her  hand  upon  her  cousin's. 

"  You  always  think  so  much  of  education," 
said  Mrs.  Hathaway  charitably.  Yet  she  was 
not  ungrateful.  "  His  father's  heart  was  set  on 
Ned's  going  to  college.  And  I  want  he  should 
go,  no  matter  what  it  does  to  him,"  she  said. 

Deprived  of  her  husband's  support,  Mrs. 
Hathaway  clung  to  Charlotte  more  and  more  as 
time  went  on.  She  resisted  her  cousin's  advice 
at  every  step,  and  took  it  finally.  She  moved 
to  the  country,  and  set  up  a  cozy  home.  She 
married  her  daughter  prettily  at  the  end  of  a 
year,  and  saw  her  established  in  a  little  home  in 
the  same  suburb.  She  submitted  to  a  college 
education  for  Ned  and  Patty,  and  even,  in  the 
absence  of  wealth,  felt  that  education  misjht  be 


IN  NEW   YORK  AGAIN.  309 

a  means  of  conferring  importance  upon  a  fam 
ily.  She  came  to  find  worldly  satisfaction  in 
mentioning  carelessly  "  my  son  at  Harvard " 
or  "my  daughter  at  Vassar." 

This  was  years  after,  however.  Meanwhile, 
we  are  concerned  with  Charlotte.  She  was  not 
long  in  telling  her  story  to  Mrs.  Bisbee.  The 
two  spent  an  hour  together,  in  which  but  one 
topic  was  discussed.  Mrs.  Bisbee  made  haste  to 
Waring.  Her  congratulations  were  the  most 
original  he  received,  —  instructive  and  amusing, 
"  tragical  -  comical  -  historical  -  pastoral,"  Richard 
told  Charlotte. 

"  I  have  been  talking  with  Mr.  Waring,"  Mrs. 
Bisbee  reported.  "  I  like  him.  In  fact,  I  have 
always  liked  him,  though  I  believe  I  have  ac 
cused  him  of  a  literary  way  of  looking  at  things. 
They  're  cold-blooded  creatures  —  these  critics. 
It  does  me  good  to  see  one  soundly  in  love." 

"  Did  you  tell  him  that  ?  " 

"  Just  that.  I  say  what  I  please.  It  is  one 
of  the  perquisites  of  my  years.  I  have  learned 
to  take  the  good  things  of  each  age  as  I  come  to 
it.  I  found  him  frank-spoken,  too.  I  like  a 
man  who  is  n't  squeamish  about  calling  a 
woman  an  angel.  I  may  be  old-fashioned.  At 
any  rate,  there  is  an  old-fashioned  flavor  about 
your  love  story  that  I  like.  Why,  that  lover  of 
yours  talked  poetry  to  me  for  an  hour." 


310  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

"  That  was  a  tribute  to  you,  Mrs.  Bisbee," 
laughed  Charlotte.  "  He  talks  prose  to  most 
people." 

"And  I  answered  him  in  Shakespeare." 
Mrs.  Bisbee  smiled  to  herself,  as  if  she  remem 
bered  a  good  thing.  "  I  wish  him  joy  of  the 
career  he  appears  to  be  going  into." 

"  He  told  you  ?  " 

"  Municipal  politics.  Whew !  "  said  Mrs. 
Bisbee,  frankly.  "  I  am  glad  he  keeps  hold  of 
his  paper  with  one  hand.  Well,  I  could*  only 
answer  him  again  in  Shakespeare.  There  's  no 
need  of  anybody  else.  What  do  the  rest  of'  them 
write  for  ?  This  was  what  I  said."  When  Mrs. 
Bisbee  repeated  a  passage  of  Shakespeare,  she 
recited  it  very  badly.  Where  her  voice  should 
have  fallen,  it  rose  with  comical  energy ;  where 
it  should  have  risen,  it  fell  with  tragic  stress. 
Under  the  conviction  of  Shakespeare's  great 
ness,  she  uttered  no  word  of  his  lightly ;  but 
with  solemnity  of  pause  and  weight  of  emphasis, 
she  pronounced  the  syllables  as  if  they  were 
Holy  Writ.  It  was  in  this  fashion  that  she  had 
turned  upon  Waring,  and  had  bidden  him  and 
his  paper  establish 

' '  Piety  and  fear, 

Religion  to  the  gods,  peace,  justice,  truth, 
Domestic  awe,  night-rest,  and  neighborhood, 

Instruction,  manners,  mysteries,  and  trades, 
Degrees,  observances,  customs,  and  laws." 


IN  NEW  YORK  AGAIN.  311 

"  Your  romance  is  meat  and  drink  to  me, 
Charlotte,"  said  Mrs.  Bisbee,  later.  "  I  am 
like  the  old  Frenchwoman.  Every  woman,  she 
said,  is  romantic  twice  in  her  life  — •  once  at  six 
teen,  on  her  own  account ;  again,  at  sixty,  for 
other  people." 

Mrs.  Bisbee  sighed,  and  it  was  a  genuine  sigh. 
Mrs.  Bisbee's  sighs  were  usually  fine  comedy 
effects. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  dear  Mrs.  Bis 
bee  ?  "  said  Charlotte. 

"  I  am  thinking  that  I  envy  you." 

Charlotte  made  a  sweet  sound  of  love  and 
protest. 

"  I  am  a  lonely  old  woman.  I  have  always 
said  there  was  no  need  of  being  lonely,  with  the 
world  as  full  as  it  is.  But  sometimes  it  comes 
over  me." 

Charlotte  did  not  remember  before  to  have 
seen  a  tear  stand  in  Mrs.  Bisbee's  eye. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  complain  of.  I  have  a 
comfortable  little  nest  round  the  corner.  My  hall 
bedroom  does  very  well.  '  I  could  be  bounded 
in  a  nut-shell,  and  count  myself  a  king  of  infinite 
space.'  I  am  abundantly  entertained.  I  dis 
cover  a  new  type  every  day.  But  types  do  not 
feed  the  hunger  of  the  heart." 

"  Ah,  no,"  said  Charlotte,  with  rich  feeling  in 
her  voice.  She  sat  silent  for  a  moment.  "  Mrs. 


312  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

Bisbee,"  she  said,  "  I  have  sometimes  thought 
that  you  and  Mr.  Pil— 

"  No,  no,  my  child,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Bisbee. 
"  I  am  too  romantic  for  that  —  too  romantic  to 
marry  for  a  home." 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  Charlotte,  and  kissed  her. 

"  I  shall  not  be  lonely  so  long  as  I  have  you, 
my  daughter." 

Charlotte's  face  lighted  with  love. 

"You  and  your  husband,"  Mrs.  Bisbee  fin 
ished. 

Charlotte's  face  shone  brighter,  and  she  hid  it 
against  Mrs.  Bisbee.  "  Upon  my  word,"  said 
that  lady, 

"  '  I  think  there  is  not  half  a  kiss  to  choose 
Who  loves  the  other  best.'  " 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  WINGED   VICTORY   OF   SAMOTHRACE. 

RICHARD  WARING  and  his  wife  had  come  up 
the  great  stairway  of  the  Louvre,  and  had  with 
one  impulse  stopped  before  the  statue  that 
faced  them.  Without  a  word,  they  seated  them 
selves  upon  a  bench  at  the  side.  They  cher 
ished  their  silences  ;  nothing,  to  their  own  per 
ception,  so  expressed  the  harmony  of  their 
minds.  They  gazed  at  the  glorious  creature 
before  and  above  them.  Charlotte  looked  at 
Richard,  and  then  again  at  the  statue.  She 
gave  the  long  sigh  of  joy  in  presence  of  beauty, 
and  turned  to  her  husband  with  finely  imagi 
native  look. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone. 

He  watched  her,  and  listened  for  the  fine  re 
verberations  of  her  nature.  She  kept  her  eyes 
upon  the  Victory,  and  by  and  by  rose  and  went 
to  the  other  side.  Richard  would  have  followed 
her,  but  he  was  arrested  by  her  pose.  A  thrill 
of  sympathy  had  run  from  the  wonderful  living 
marble  to  the  sister  woman  beside  her.  By  the 


314  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

marvelous  speech  of  the  body,  the  two  appeared 
to  greet  each  other,  as  animated  by  the  same 
spirit.  The  Victory,  treading  firm  and  light, 
with  goddess  step,  the  prow  of  her  ship,  carrying 
the  motion  of  wind  and  wave  in  the  sweep  of 
her  garments,  stirred  heart  and  imagination. 
The  life  that  flushed  the  marble  was  the  vitality 
of  noble  womanhood  that  would  have  strength 
ened  and  purified  the  weakest  beholder.  New 
power  seemed  to  Charlotte  to  course  through 
her  own  being  as  she  stood  gazing.  The  divine 
energy  of  the  Victory,  resting  on  her  own 
strength  with  godlike  repose,  at  once  stirred  and 
calmed  the  spirit  of  the  woman. 

The  figure  stood  high  and  commanding,  with 
lofty  outlook.  The  body  was  large,  for  so  the 
magnanimity  of  the  spirit  demanded ;  yet  unut 
terable  human  tenderness  was  in  the  softly 
breathing  breast.  There  were  no  arms,  and  the 
face  was  gone,  but  such  was  the  harmony  of  the 
body  that  the  rest  expressed  what  was  absent. 
There  was  no  doubt  of  the  hand,  the  brow,  the 
eyes  of  the  noble  creature.  One  could  fancy  he 
heard  her  voice.  From  the  throat  to  the  foot 
the  figure  looked  gloriously  ahead,  with  gallant 
courage  in  every  line,  as  it  stood  light  and  firm 
against  the  wind.  The  thrill  of  hope  was  in  the 
joyous  tread  of  the  foot,  and  in  the  aspiration  of 
the  winirs  raised  for  flight.  Heaven-borne  and 


THE  WINGED  VICTORY  OF  SAMOTHRACE.    315 

earth-treading  creature  she  seemed,  beautiful  in 
the  poise  between  the  paths  of  the  sky  and  the 
walks  among  men.  Her  ship  rides  the  waves, 
while  she  steps  upon  its  prow.  The  relation 
of  their  energy,  the  harmony  of  their  motion, 
was  beautiful,  again,  in  its  suggestion,  to  the 
mind  of  Charlotte.  Whether  the  ship  rode 
under  blue  Greek  skies,  amid  the  "  countless 
laughter  of  the  water,"  or  whether  it  rode  the 
storm,  every  movement  of  the  beneficent  figure 
at  its  prow  would  be  faithful  to  the  vessel  it  pro 
tected. 

While  Charlotte  had  gazed  at  the  Victory, 
Waring  had  looked  at  her,  wanting  nothing 
more.  lie  watched  her  with  a  certain  curiosity, 
it  is  true.  He  had  seldom  seen  in  women  deli 
cate  loyalty  to  themselves  or  enthusiasm  for  ideal 
womanhood.  There  was  in  Charlotte  a  chivalry 
towards  her  sex  that  affected  Waring  oddly.  In 
this  most  womanly  of  women  there  was  a  dash 
of  the  knight  errant.  In  the  beginning  he  had 
been  jealous  of  this  element  in  her  character, 
and  believed  that  he  disliked  it.  With  the 
larger  knowledge  of  her  that  love  had  taught 
him,  he  looked  at  her  now  with  full  comprehen 
sion. 

It  was  natural  that  when,  at  last,  they  spoke, 
it  should  be  a  little  below  the  level  of  their 
thoughts.  They  said  that  the  Victory  was  well 


316  THE  PETRIE  ESTATE. 

born  and  well  bred  and  well  nourished.     Then 
they  were  silent  again. 

"I  have  been  thinking,"  said  Charlotte  softly. 
"  She  is  what  woman  is   to  be  to  the  world  — 
she  faces  the  future." 

"  I  have  been  thinking,  too,"  said  Waring. 
"  No,  I  am  selfish.  It  is  my  future  she  faces. 
Come,  love." 


